SW Episode II: Insert Pretentious Title Here
by Jedi-Jae
Summary: Complete - finally! Anakin and Padme discover their love in the shadows of the build-up to the Clone Wars.
1. Default Chapter

Star Wars Episode II: Insert Pretentious Title Here

by Jedi-Jae

Disclaimer – everything belongs to George. I'm just playing with it here. No makin' any money on it.

If anyone can think of a better title for this, I am very open to suggestion.

Chapter 1

The stars snapped back into focus as the large dark cruiser dropped out of hyperspace. A nondescript bluegreen planet hung peacefully beneath it. On the bridge, the cruiser's captain slowly exhaled, unaware until then that he had been holding his breath. Although no resistance was expected, one could never be too careful. Especially when mission failure meant certain death. 

Glancing quickly over his shoulder at the dark cloaked figure standing before the viewport, the captain addressed the communication officer. "Have the fighters check in." 

"Yes, sir." The communications officer moved his hand across his board, only to have it slammed down against the panel by an unseen force. 

"There is no need to break communications silence, Captain." The dark figure spoke without turning around. "Our escorts have already arrived. Besides, there is little out here but the Sessone colony itself. You will less protection from what is out there," the voice went on ominously "than you will need from me if you give us away." 

The invisible grip on the communication officer's arm suddenly lifted. He jerked it back close to his body, and then looked at it as if it were an alien thing. He looked up at his captain, who swallowed hard. The fear on the bridge was palpable. Summoning his courage, the captain began, "But how do you know-" He was interrupted by several fighters streaking across the bridge viewport and descending toward the planet.

The dark figure whirled around. The hood of the dark cloak fell back, revealing a young man with spiky white hair and feral golden eyes. "Do not question me, Captain," Darth Nemesis said in an icy voice. "Everything is on schedule, as you can see." He strode toward the bridge door. "Send the transports to the surface at once."

"Immediately, My Lord!" The captain bowed stiffly, and sighed in relief as the bridge doors closed behind the departing Sith.

On the underside of the cruiser, the hanger bay doors opened to disgorge ten smaller transport vessels. As the transports cleared the hangar, they fired their engines and scattered, descending toward the small planet below.

The boy clutched his hunting blaster to his chest and peered out across the small meadow. Shifting slightly, he tried to get a better view between the branches of the brush he was using to conceal himself. There was a small creek on the other side of the meadow, and he knew the delks would have to cross the open area to get to it. He grinned as he pictured himself bringing yet another kill into the village, enabling his family to eat fresh meat while everyone else waited on the next supply ship from Alderaan. 

Numen Brulo was a skilled hunter, despite his tender age. The older boys and young men of his village called it luck, but Numen knew better. Most of them were not willing to walk five to ten kilometers away from the settlement to reach the more abundant game areas, especially at night. He had been out here in the woods since dusk, finally settling on his present position because of its proximity to the creek and the open field of fire it offered. 

A roaring sound and a sudden gust of hot wind jerked the boy from his reverie. Looking up, he saw a dark, boxy transport craft settling into the meadow. Furrowing his brow in puzzlement, Numen squinted through the wind at the unfamiliar ship. Other than the Alderaani resupply ships, visitors to Sessone were rare. And they usually landed in the fields right outside the settlement, not out here in the forest in the middle of the night. Curiosity overcoming his apprehension, Numen stood to get a better look.

And immediately ducked back under cover as the transport's ramp lowered, throwing light across the meadow. Wide-eyed, Numen peered through the brush as at least fifty soldiers made their way out of the ship. The light from Sessone's moons reflected off their vicious-looking blaster rifles. The soldiers were completely covered in gray armor that seemed to bristle with weaponry. Their helmets had black T-shaped slit visors hiding their eyes. The soldiers moved swiftly into the woods towards the village. 

Numen tried to make himself as small as possible. He remained crouched behind the brush for a long time, almost paralyzed with fear. His thoughts turned to his family, at home in their beds. If he stayed out here, he would be abandoning them. He knew the woods. He could get to the settlement quickly, maybe sound a warning before the soldiers got there. Gathering up his courage and his hunting blaster, he left his hiding place. Two startled delks raced off into the trees. Lost in thought, he had failed to see them come into the meadow. _Damn_, he thought. _What a wasted night._

Reaching the edge of the village, the soldiers discarded their silence. With blood-curdling war cries, they charged through the streets, ransacking houses and killing the occupants. Flames crackled as the buildings were set afire. Screaming villagers were shot down as they abandoned their burning homes. One young woman was beaten to death with rifle butts as she attempted to escape to the forest. 

In the village square, Darth Nemesis and one of the armored officers watched the carnage and waited expectantly. In short order, a squad approached, dragging a group of villagers. When they reached the officers, the soldiers threw the people to the ground. The Sith Lord paced the line, inspecting each prisoner carefully.

"Have you taken the samples yet, Sergeant?" he asked.

"No, My Lord!" was the immediate reply. 

"Then do so," ordered Nemesis. He turned to the officer. "Colonel Fett, do you have the analyzers?"

"Yes, sir," said Fett. He took two devices out of his belt and handed one to Nemesis. They watched as the sergeant took a wicked-looking knife from his belt and advanced on the prisoners. One young man leaped on the sergeant, cursing as he tried to pry the knife away. He received a rifle butt to the back of his head for his trouble. When the man was subdued, the sergeant cut a gash in his arm and dabbed blood onto an analysis chip. He repeated the process with the other villagers, four young men and a teen-aged girl.

Fett and Nemesis slipped each chip into the analyzers. When the results were complete, Nemesis eyed the prisoners. "You," he said, pointing at one of the young men, "you may leave." Relief flashed across the man's face as he got up and ran for the forest. 

"Sergeant," said Fett, jerking his head toward the fleeing man. The sergeant quickly raised his rifle and shot the man in the back. He dropped in the middle of the square. The remaining prisoners screamed. 

"Shut up!" ordered Fett. "Take them to the ship, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers yanked the captives to their feet and herded them toward the woods. They joined the other soldiers that were making their way back to the transport.

Colonel Fett turned to the Sith. "I think we're done here, My Lord," he said.

"Very well. Finish it." Nemesis turned on his heel and headed for his shuttle, which had just landed. Fett barked orders into his comlink, then followed. As the shuttle lifted off, fighters screamed in over the trees, bombarding the village and laying waste to what little remained.

Standing in the trees at the edge of town, Numen Brulo looked on in horror at the destruction of his home. An eerie silence lay over the smoking ruins. He ran through the rubble, screaming for someone, anyone, but knowing there would be no answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The spire of the Jedi Temple soared majestically above the surrounding buildings. The architecture of the surrounding area had been deliberately designed at a smaller scale, an unusual phenomenon on Coruscant, where buildings often soared kilometers into the air, some even reaching the lower levels of the stratosphere. It was a sign of the respect that the original architects had for the Jedi Order.

At the top of the spire, the Jedi Council chamber afforded its occupants a breathtaking 360-degree panorama of the city. At the moment, however, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not enjoying the view. He was attempting to answer questions from the Council. Questions about his apprentice. Again.

"It was just a fistfight, Master." Obi-Wan addressed the dark-skinned human. "And it was over almost as quickly as it began."

"Resulting in one Padawan in the dispensary with a broken nose and another with a split lip." Jedi Master Mace Windu's eyes bored into him. "And I understand that Anakin is sporting a black and blue ring around his eye."

"The outcome matters not," said Yoda. "This is not his first altercation. Too quick to anger is he. If he does not learn control, his undoing it will be."

"May I ask what prompted this latest outburst?" Ki-Ada-Mundi inquired. The other Council members leaned forward, also curious. They were all deeply interested in the progress of Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan sighed. "As you know, Masters, over the last several years, there have been a number of slave emancipation missions to outlying worlds. Anakin's frustration has grown because he doesn't understand why there has not yet been such a mission to Tatooine."

"The Senate and the Supreme Chancellor's office sets the priorities for emancipation missions," said Master Windu. "The personal concerns of one Jedi Padawan are irrelevant."

"I am aware of that, Master," said Obi-Wan. "Explaining it to my headstrong apprentice is another matter."

"I am sure it is," said Master Adi Gallia. Her warm brown eyes regarded Obi-Wan with humor and sympathy. "Please continue."

"Two Padwans that just returned from the recent mission to Bespin were taunting Anakin about his background and the fact that his mother is still a slave. They hinted that there would never be a mission to the Outer Rim because there was nothing out there worth saving. That's when Anakin attacked them."

"Where is he now, Obi-Wan?" Mace asked.

"In the gardens, Master," replied Obi-Wan. "I sent him there to calm himself."

"Go to him, then," ordered Yoda. He leaned forward in his chair, his blue eyes piercing. "Gain control, he must, Obi-Wan! He will be a powerful Jedi, but dangerous if he does not learn!"

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed and left. 

Obi-Wan strode quickly toward the gardens, his thoughts in turmoil. Anakin was the most talented Padawan in the Temple; that was obvious to everyone. But Obi-Wan still harbored doubts about his own ability to train the boy. He wished once again for Qui-Gon's wisdom to guide him. Anakin's situation was so unusual that no one had much to offer in the way of advice. Even Master Yoda just said, "Trust your instincts, you should."

Most potential Jedi were brought to the Temple before they were a year old. Anakin was nine when he arrived, practically an ancient. No one that old had ever been accepted for training. But within a year of his arrival, he had caught up with and surpassed all of the other pupils his age. The Force swirled about him like a storm, and his potential seemed unlimited. 

But in the eyes of the other students, Anakin had not paid his dues. He came into the Temple already apprenticed to a Jedi. He never had to struggle through training every day, hoping to be noticed by a Master and selected as a Padawan. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin could feel their jealousy and resentment, and that he responded by being aloof and indifferent.

To make matters worse, Anakin lacked the serenity typical to most Jedi. His emotions seethed beneath his calm façade, and most of the time he made only cursory attempts to control them. The other Padawans could sense this, and they hurled his slave background in his face whenever they felt like he was getting too arrogant.

Still, Anakin needed to walk away from their insults. Master Yoda was right – the more powerful he became, the more important it was that he controlled himself. _But he has gotten better_, Obi-Wan thought. _When I first started training him, it seemed like he was fighting every other day._

The Jedi entered the gardens. He made his through the lush foliage to a small waterfall near the center. He saw his apprentice stretched out on the grass, his eyes closed in concentration. His left eye was completely encircled by a large bruise. 

Obi-Wan swallowed his surprise. Anakin had little use for meditation – he was more inclined toward action than introspection, and he usually spent his meditation time brooding and pacing. Perhaps he was just trying to avoid another lecture on The Importance of Meditation. 

Anakin had apparently calmed down. His handsome features were composed and Obi-Wan sensed none of the anger that had filled the young man earlier. He had removed his boots and socks to better enjoy the soft grass. _I almost hate to interrupt him_, Obi-Wan thought.

"But you will anyway, right?" Anakin's voice held a trace of amusement. His eyes popped open. "You're projecting, Obi-Wan. That's not like you." He favored his master with a lop-sided grin.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Anakin was very attuned to him, both because of the time they had spent together and the boy's innate power. It still surprised him sometimes. "How long were you aware of me?"

"Since you came into the gardens." Anakin sat up, knowing what was coming. "You seem a bit agitated."

"I just came from the Council, Anakin." Obi-Wan sat down and looked directly into his apprentice's blue eyes. "They are deeply concerned about this latest altercation between you and the other Padawans. They fear that you are unable to control your anger."

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan. Did you get in trouble with the Council?"

"No more than usual." Obi-Wan waved away the boy's concerns, knowing they were mostly a dodge from talking about the issue. "I thought you had finally learned to ignore the others' remarks. But you've been in three fights since we returned to Coruscant. You know the others bait you to see if you will react in anger – and when you do, it confirms their cynical opinions of you. You must learn to walk away."

Anakin stood and started pacing. "I know, Master. It's just that Derk and Jorel just got back from a mission, and they said that -- " He paused a moment, then plunged on, "I just don't understand why there hasn't been a rescue mission to Tatooine. It seems as if every other backwater on the fringes has had one." He looked down, as if daring his master to contradict him.

"I'm not sure why either, Anakin," Obi-Wan admitted. "The Senate—"

"Tatoo I and Tatoo II will both go supernova before the Senate decides anything!" Anakin exploded. "The Jedi are supposed to be the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy! What greater injustice is there than the enslavement of sentient beings? Laws against it already exist! Why can't we enforce them?"

"It's not that simple, and you know it," said Obi-Wan placidly. "The Council—"

"—is no better than the Senate!" Anakin angrily interrupted. "They sit in their tower, apathetic to the suffering of people in the real galaxy! Cannot interfere, they say! What good does it do to have Jedi powers if we don't use them to help?!" His fists clenched and unclenched by his side.

"Anakin, calm down!" Obi-Wan admonished. He wondered if he would ever get used to the boy's mercurial moods. He shifted into his teaching mode. "The Republic often asks us to mediate its conflicts. That is one thing. But if the Jedi unilaterally intervene in political affairs, we undermine the democracy." 

"But slavery isn't a political question!" Anakin said heatedly. "It's a moral and legal issue!"

"It most certainly is a political issue," Obi-Wan lectured. "There are many sectoral governments, especially on the Rim, that choose to selectively enforce the anti-slavery laws, or ignore them all together. Granted, much of this is due to the flow of credits that slavers provide to politicians, including Senators. Is this reprehensible? Yes! But the point is that unless these governments ask for our help, and the Senate approves, we cannot step in. We can advise and assist, but we cannot interfere."

"Even if that means allowing injustices to continue?" Anakin asked tightly.

Obi-Wan hedged. "I wouldn't put it that way."

"Maybe not, but you mean it that way!"

The Jedi pushed back his irritation. They had covered this territory many times before. "Anakin, the Senate governs the Republic, not the Jedi. The Senators are elected by their people to represent them, to give them their voice in the government. If we act without the Senate's consent, we interfere with the will of the people." 

Anakin snorted in disgust. "The Senate hardly represents anything but the greed of its own members. Why can't we just take action if that's what is best for everyone?" 

"And who is to decide what is best for everyone? You? Me? The Council?" Obi-Wan asked quietly. "Your intentions are good, Padawan, but the Republic guarantees every world the right to self-determination. There are always those who will refuse your help, even if it is in their best interests to accept. And it is their right to do so." He let the Force wash over his Padawan in at attempt to soothe him. He sensed anger and fear, plus an underlying desperation. "There is something else troubling you. Tell me."

Anakin flopped down on the grass. He was silent for while, a faraway look on his face. Then he sighed heavily "It's a vision – always the same. There's a dark man in a cloak – I can hear him laughing. And then thousands of armored soldiers. I see a city in ruins. And Mom calling for me, reaching out for me. Then pain. Then.nothing." He looked at Obi-Wan with barely suppressed tears. 

"You must learn to control your emotions," said Obi-Wan. "The Force allows you to see many things. You cannot take all of your visions literally." 

"You've always taught me that the Force will guide us," said Anakin, right on the edge of defiance. "Shouldn't I listen to what it's telling me?"

"The future is always in motion. Interpreting what you've seen is an important part of your training. You need to meditate on what you've seen." He put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I know it's a difficult thing."

Anakin looked at his master for a long moment, then nodded. Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder affectionately, then asked, "How is your eye?"

Anakin flushed and said, "It's throbbing a bit." He covered the swollen eye with his hand, embarrassed. "But hey, you should see Deak's fist. I really messed it up."

"Here, let me look." Obi-Wan pried Anakin's hand away. He probed at the eye. "Perhaps you should go to the clinic and get it looked after."

"I can control the pain myself, Master. And it serves as a reminder of my foolishness."

"That may be, Padawan, but it is completely unpresentable." Obi-Wan smiled. "I can't have my apprentice running around looking like that – it will ruin my reputation!"

Anakin's long legs carried him swiftly toward the infirmary as he mulled over his conversation with Obi-Wan. His master did not seem overly concerned about his vision. _Maybe it is not as urgent as it seems_, he thought. _But it seems so real. And it hurts so bad. _Lost in thought, he rounded a corner and plowed over someone coming from the opposite direction.

_Oh, no!_ he thought as he looked down at the surprised face of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. "I am so sorry, sir!" he exclaimed as he helped the man to his feet. He bowed. "It was completely my fault – I was not paying attention to where I was going!"

"It's quite all right, young Skywalker. Nothing is damaged. At least on me," Palpatine said, looking critically at Anakin's swollen left eye. "However, I'm not sure I can say the same for you. What happened to your eye?"

Anakin, embarrassed, covered his eye with his hand. "A minor disagreement with a couple of fellow Padawans, Supreme Chancellor. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Hmm, I'm not so sure," said Palpatine, putting his hand on Anakin's back in a fatherly manner. "Swollen eye or not, wouldn't you normally have sensed someone around the corner?"

Anakin sighed. "Yes, sir," he said. "I have been distracted a bit of late." 

"Can I help?" Palpatine asked solicitously. "After all, I am still in your debt for your heroism at Naboo."

As Anakin looked at the Chancellor, it occurred to him. _He could help me. But is it right to ask?_ He hesitated. _Why not? The Council won't help!_ "Sir, is there any chance of an emancipation mission to Tatooine any time soon?"

The Supreme Chancellor looked puzzled for a moment. "Tatooine? Ah, yes, your homeworld! I thought there had already been a mission." At Anakin's headshake, he frowned. "But certainly the homeworld of one of our esteemed Jedi apprentices would be high on the list for emancipation! Especially one who has distinguished himself as often as you have! Why hasn't there been one?"

Now it was Anakin's turn to look puzzled. "Sir, I was under the impression that your office set the priorities for which worlds would be freed."

Palpatine shook his head. "A special Senate committee drew up a list of worlds that met the criteria. Tatooine was on it. The list was submitted to the Jedi Council – it is they who set the priorities for missions." Seeing Anakin's face cloud with confusion and anger, he hastily added. "I am on my way to see the Council now about another matter. I will see what I can do."

Moved that the Chancellor would do such a thing for him, Anakin bowed deeply. "Thank you so much, sir! You have no idea what this means to me!"

Palpatine smiled and patted the boy gently on the shoulder. "Give it no more thought, son. Now run along and get your eye looked after." 

Blue eyes shining in gratitude, Anakin bowed again and rushed off toward the clinic. Palpatine watched him with a slight smile.

Late that afternoon, Obi-Wan stood in the corner of one the Temple's training rooms. Anakin was in the center of the room, kneeling with his back to his master. With a flick of his wrist, Obi-Wan sent four remotes careening in Anakin's direction. Almost before they got into position, Anakin was on his feet with his lightsaber activated. He swiftly deflected the tiny blaster bolts, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow. Three of the remotes went down, burned out by deflected hits from their own weapons.

Obi-Wan reached out and took control of the fourth remote before his apprentice could destroy it. He jinked it around the room while Anakin chased it. Feinting high, then zipping low, Obi-Wan got the remote behind Anakin and zapped him in the backside.

"Ow!!" yelled Anakin, grabbing the injured part. Taking advantage of the young man's distraction, Obi-Wan zapped him in the hand, causing him to drop his saber. Using the Force, Obi-Wan swiftly pulled the weapon out of Anakin's reach and activated three more remotes. They quickly homed in, firing at will with their tiny stinging shots.

"Hey, no fair!" Anakin cried as he twisted and contorted his body to avoid the remotes.

"You won't always have your weapon, Anakin." The Jedi watched his apprentice with an amused smile. "You must be flexible."

"What do call this?" Anakin shouted, as he twisted his body in a seemingly impossible manner to avoid another shot in the backside. He danced as two remotes let loose a barrage at his feet. He flipped, leaped, and contorted to avoid the other two. Obi-Wan stifled his laughter.

Anakin ducked a shot at his head, then used a Force-enhanced leap to grab a ceiling beam. Reaching out, he managed to deactivate the remotes, but not before one last shot caught him in the side. He dropped to the floor, panting.

Obi-Wan retrieved the lightsaber and handed it to his apprentice, grinning. "Very impressive. Perhaps you should audition for the Coruscant Modern Dance Troupe."

Anakin shot his master a venomous look as he caught his breath. "I assume there was a purpose to that tactic."

"Indeed there was, Padawan," Obi-Wan replied. "You will not always have your weapon. In some situations, it may be inappropriate. It may be knocked away from you. You may burn it out falling into a Naboo swamp." 

That earned him a raised eyebrow. He went on, "You must be able to cope with any situation. Besides, you would have destroyed all the remotes, and they're expensive."

"It did take a few minutes to occur to me that I could simply deactivate the remotes," Anakin admitted.

"That's because your first reaction is always the most aggressive reaction," said Obi-Wan. "You had your saber out almost before the remotes got there. You must control your aggression – it is almost never the most appropriate reaction."

The two men looked up as the door opened to admit Master Mace Windu. Obi-Wan patted Anakin's shoulder. "Go clean up and think about what I've said. Tomorrow, we'll do some more exercises." Anakin nodded and left the room, giving Mace a slight bow as he did so.

"His eye looks better," remarked Master Windu. He looked at Obi-Wan. "That was an impressive display of agility and swordsmanship," he said, nodding after Anakin's departing form. "He is growing quite powerful."

Obi-Wan bowed. "Yes, Master. Anakin has a great deal of confidence in his abilities. But he must learn to temper his aggressive feelings."

The two men left the training room, walking toward the dining area. "I notice that he doesn't always refer to you as Master' anymore," commented Master Windu.

Obi-Wan stiffened slightly. "I don't insist on it – there are plenty of others who are glad to remind him of his background." He realized that he sounded defensive. "He still shows the proper respect - most of the time."

Mace smiled slightly. "Of course." Changing the subject, he went on, "I have some news. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine requested this morning that you and your Padawan be allowed to go to Tatooine to free the slaves there."

"What!?" Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of the corridor, dumbfounded. "Master, Anakin cannot be allowed to go to Tatooine," he said, disturbed. "His feelings for his mother are powerful, and his control over them is tenuous at best. He is too close to the situation."

"The Council agrees with you, Obi-Wan," Mace assured him. "There will be no mission at this time."

"Why would the Supreme Chancellor request the two of us specifically?" Obi-Wan asked. "Why would someone in his position be interested in which Jedi go on which particular mission?"

"I'm not sure – he is a difficult man to read," admitted Mace. "He did say that he thought we owed it to young Skywalker. He was most insistent."

"Interesting." Obi-Wan trailed off, lost in thought. 

The two men continued to the dining hall. Although it was early in the dinner time period, the place was already filled with Initiates and Padawans, with a scattering of Knights. The crowd parted before Mace and Obi-Wan, the younger Jedi trainees falling silent in respect as they passed. They went through the line, then carried their trays to the far corner, away from the chatter of the others.

"On a more pleasant note, Queen Amidala of Naboo is coming to address the Senate," said Mace. "She arrives this evening." He attacked his dinner with relish.

Obi-Wan grinned. "I'm sure Anakin will be excited to hear that. It's been four years since our last visit to Naboo."

Mace remained serious. "That's another reason I sought you out. The Queen is only going to be here for a few days, and her itinerary is quite full. She may not have time to see him."

"She has always made time for him in the past, Master. Why is this visit different?"

Mace sighed and put down his fork. He looked at the younger man intently. "Obi-Wan, I cannot overstate the Council's concerns about Skywalker. I know that he and Queen Amidala are friends. But his feelings for her haveas he has gotten older. It is a distraction that he does not need at this time."

"At any rate," continued the Jedi Master, "I want you attend the Senate Defense Committee meeting tomorrow morning. The Queen will give her presentation there. It is rumored that she has information about these attacks on the fringe colonies and Outer Rim worlds."

"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan. 

They finished their meal in silence, while Obi-Wan pondered how long he was going to be able keep the Queen's presence a secret from Anakin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3   
  


The shuttle glided smoothly to a halt at the Government Center VIP Landing Platform. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and Naboo Senator Sio Bibble, accompanied by two Republic Senate Guards, waited patiently for the shuttle's ramp to lower. A tall, dark-skinned human put his head out the door. After taking a careful look around, he nodded at someone in the shuttle, then descended the ramp. Palpatine recognized him as Captain Panaka, Chief of Security for Naboo.

Queen Amidala appeared at the top of the ramp. She was dressed in an ornate red gown shot through with gold brocade. Her hair was woven through a gold headpiece that encircled her head like the rays of the sun. As always for public appearances, she was wearing formal white court makeup with the red Scar of Remembrance painted on her lower lip. She had an air of authority and dignity that were only enhanced by the ornate headpiece and the gown's wide shoulders.

As she descended the ramp, the Queen took the arm of a tall, dark-haired man in an immaculate white uniform. His clothing was trimmed in blue with a generous amount of gold braid. He carried himself with the same sort of authority as Queen Amidala.

When the couple walked up to them, the Chancellor bowed and bestowed a kiss on the Queen's hand. "Welcome back to Coruscant, Your Majesty. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"It is good to see you again also, Chancellor. And you too, Senator Bibble." The Queen turned to look at her escort. "May I present Prince Bail Organa, recently ascended First Chairman and Viceroy of the Sovereign System of Alderaan?"

Prince Organa extended his hand. "How do you do, gentlemen. We've met before, Chancellor, but only briefly."

"Ah, yes," remembered Palpatine, shaking the man's hand. "It was at the Caamas Conference, was it not?" The Prince nodded.

"If I remember correctly, Your Highness," said Senator Bibble, "you were pushing very hard for a unified, expanded Republic military." His expression said that he did not agree with Organa's position.

"The need for it is greater than ever, Senator," said Bail Organa evenly. "I think you will agree once you have heard what your Queen has to say."

Palpatine gestured toward the door, cutting off further argument. "Shall we proceed? The Defense Committee awaits your presentation, Your Majesty." The Queen nodded and moved toward the building, her entourage trailing behind.   
  


Anakin wandered the halls of Government Center, looking for something to occupy his time. Obi-Wan had left him a cryptic message this morning, saying only that he would be in a Senate Committee meeting and that Anakin should meditate on yesterday's lessons. Anakin puzzled over it. It was not unheard of for Obi-Wan to go to Senate meetings – his opinion was respected despite his relative youth – but he usually told his Padawan the details of what was being discussed, and explained the Jedi's role in it.

Anakin spent an hour pacing in the meditation chamber, then went looking for a sparring partner for lightsaber training. He found no takers. He was not really surprised. He had whipped almost all of the Padawans his age at one time or another. Many of them actively disliked him, and the ones who didn't mostly avoided him. He knew that many of the Knights were skeptical of him as well. The Council watched him constantly. He had the feeling that his power frightened them a bit.

So he left the Temple, catching a bus to Government Center. He had originally planned to go to the Research Library, but had ended up wandering the vast halls instead, turning things over in his head. He didn't regret his choice to leave home and become a Jedi, but despite being surrounded by others, he often felt alone. Obi-Wan was his only real friend in the Temple. Anakin got along well with a few Padawans, but was not really close to any of them. Then there was Padmé, whom he hadn't seen for four years, though they corresponded often.

Anakin leaned on the rail next to a large window overlooking the VIP Landing Platform. _Padmé_, he thought. _Force, how I miss her_. He watched the holonews constantly, hoping for a glimpse of her. He thought about her last message, how beautiful she had looked and her musical laughter as she told a silly joke. He loved her as much now as he had as a young boy, and she occupied his thoughts constantly, especially when he was lonely. He hoped that he got older, she would get beyond thinking of him as a boy with a crush. _Maybe I should go see her._ _Ask Obi-Wan for some time off and fly one the Temple's shuttles to Naboo._

Absently, he watched as a large VIP shuttle landed on the platform. _Must be some real big shot this time_. _The Supreme Chancellor is waiting for them_. His mouth dropped open as Queen Amidala emerged from the shuttle. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, then stretched out with the Force. Sure enough, he brushed up against Padmé's warm presence. He gaped as the Queen and the tall, well-dressed man escorting her greeted Chancellor Palpatine and Senator Bibble, then disappeared into the building.

Shaking off his surprise, Anakin bolted down the hall to the nearest lift, punching the button impatiently. "Please be patient," intoned a mechanical voice. "The lift will be here in fifteen point six seconds." Not willing to wait, Anakin looked around and saw the stairs. He threw open the door and raced down the stairs, taking them three at a time. The platform door was four stories below the observation window. Reaching his destination, he burst through the stairway door, almost knocking over two Bothan bureaucrats and a protocol droid. Mumbling hasty apologies, he looked around for the Queen's party. They were nowhere in sight.

_ Okay_, he thought. _Calm down. Focus_. He took a deep breath, then reached out again. There, to the left, around the corner. He started to walk down the hall. Shouldering his way through what suddenly seemed to be a large crowd, he turned the corner. Standing on his toes to see over the throng, he saw the Queen and her escorts enter one of the Senate committee chambers at the end of the hall.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he reached the chamber, only to find two Republic Senate Guards posted outside the doors. "I'm sorry, sir," one of them said. "This is a closed hearing. Committee members only."

Anakin turned to leave. He intended to sit on the bench down the hall until the meeting was over. Then he spun back around, a determined look on his face. Making a slight gesture with his hand, he said softly to the other guard, "It's okay, he's cleared."

"It's okay, he's cleared," said the guard. His partner looked puzzled, but he opened the door for Anakin.

Anakin gestured again. "Go right in"

The guard repeated, "Go right in."

"Thank you, gentlemen." Anakin slipped inside the chamber, leaving the guards to wonder what just happened.   
  


The one hundred-odd members of the Senate Defense Committee were gathered in the room. It was much smaller than the massive main Senate Chamber where the floating platforms were required. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chairman Mas Amedda were seated on the dais, along with Bail Organa. Queen Amidala stood at the podium.

_ Boy, they got this thing started quick_, thought Anakin as he slipped into a seat in an upper back corner of the large room. Usually, the pomp and protocol associated with any kind of Senate gathering took at least fifteen minutes. He slouched down in the chair and looked around. Hopefully, no one had noticed his surreptitious entry.

He studied the audience. The committee members were there, along with their retinue of aides. The Queen's handmaidens were present, as usual. He saw Captain Panaka standing to one side of the dais, along with a large, no-nonsense man who scanned the audience continually. He was the only one who had noted Anakin's entrance. _He must be that other bigwig's bodyguard._ All of the Jedi Council members were present, as were several Jedi Knights, including Obi-Wan.

Anakin wondered why Padmé had not contacted him to tell him she was coming to Coruscant. She always had before. Then he realized that Obi-Wan must have known. Why hadn't he said anything? Anakin felt a sudden surge of anger at his master. He quickly squashed it to keep from alerting the other Jedi to his presence. He turned his attention to the Queen's presentation.

"Honorable members, I have requested this committee meeting to present evidence of a threat which holds the potential to dismantle the unity of the Republic." Padmé spoke in what Anakin thought of as her Queen voice, making her sound older than she was. Murmurs rippled through the audience. Anakin sat up a little straighter.

"A few years ago, Naboo's intelligence services began receiving unusual information from the Rim worlds. Reports of isolated settlements being invaded and destroyed by mysterious forces. Because of Naboo's proximity to the Outer Rim, we took these reports seriously, and sent patrols to investigate. Several of these patrols vanished. The others turned up nothing but smoking ruins and destroyed lives. Until just recently."

She looked at Bail Organa before continuing. "A few weeks ago, one of our patrols found a young boy on the Alderaani mineral colony of Sessone. He was the only survivor of one of these vicious attacks. He was badly shaken by his ordeal and was unsure of how long he had been alone, but he was able to describe the attackers in some detail. When we combined this eyewitness account with research and information from other sources, we came to a startling conclusion."

The Queen paused briefly, her eyes sweeping over the audience, then went on, "We believe that this mysterious army is a new incarnation of the ancient Mandalore warrior clan."

There were astonished gasps and rumblings from the committee. The members of the Jedi Council looked at each other thoughtfully. Obi-Wan did not miss the exchange of glances between Yoda and Mace Windu.

Senator Passel Argente stood up. "Really, Queen Amidala, how can you expect us to believe this? The Jedi destroyed the Mandalorians over a thousand years ago. There has been no sign of them since." Murmurs of agreement rolled through the chamber.

Queen Amidala raised her hands for silence. "We have recently come into possession of this recording." She activated the holographic display.

The scene that came to life depicted pure chaos, violent and bloody. Armored soldiers marched through a town, burning homes and firing on residents as they fled. They appeared to be kidnapping some people. The recorder zoomed in on some of the individual soldiers. The Queen froze the projector, showing clearly the weapon-covered armor and the T-shaped slit visors of the soldiers' helmets. The committee erupted again as many recognized the distinctive uniforms of the fierce Mandalore warriors.

Anakin sat straight up, shocked. The hologram before him depicted the armored soldiers from his tortured visions. He stared open-mouthed at the image, then closed his eyes as the vision returned. Pain flooded him. Remembering where he was, he tried to smother his reaction, but it was too late. The other Jedi in the room had already sensed him. Opening his eyes, he saw Obi-Wan looking at him with disappointment. Lowering his head, he got up and slipped out of the room.

"I still do not understand, Your Majesty," said Senator Norb Grey'eyla of Bothanwai. "You're saying that an extinct race has been resurrected and is now threatening the Republic? How could this be?

"If you will allow me to continue, Senator." Queen Amidala restarted the projector. "Please note the activity in the background."

She tapped several commands into the projector's terminal. A scene in the background of all the chaos was magnified and enhanced. The audience watched closely as a Mandalorian soldier sliced the arms of several prisoners and collected blood samples, which were put into some type of device. The Queen stopped the projector again.

"Right now, this is just informed speculation," she said, "but we believe that what you have just witnessed is the collection of suitable specimens for cloning."

The chamber immediately exploded in an uproar. The Queen's face remained impassive as the members shouted and argued. Mas Amedda banged his gavel. "Order! We will have order!" The talk died down as his commanding voice rang through the room.

Senator Argente spoke up again. "You have to admit, Your Majesty, that this is rather surprising. How did you come to such a conclusion?"

"This device," said the Queen. She tapped the terminal again to enhance the image. "It is a biological analyzer of the same type used by the Mining Guild during their experiments with cloning. It was used to determine the viability of a specimen."

"May I ask where you get your information, Your Majesty?" Norb Grey'eyla asked.

"I'm sorry, Senator. Sources and methods," Queen Amidala answered. "I'm sure that you, of all people, can understand that." She smiled slightly at the veiled reference to the widespread tentacles of the Bothan intelligence services.

"The reliability of this source is without question" she continued. Her voice became intense. "Senators, this is a darkness from the distant past. The ancient Mandalores' thirst for conquest is well documented. My world stands in the path of its advance. I call upon the combined strength of the Republic to make a stand against this tide of oppression." She gracefully took her seat.

Bail Organa rose abruptly. "You can see for yourselves the threat we face here," he said. "The Republic military is little more than a peacekeeping and police force. It cannot protect the entire Republic. We need to expand the fleet and strengthen the ground forces if we are to effectively deal with this."

"Deal with what, Prince Organa?" asked Senator Letia Talador of Etti, almost contemptuously. "We have nothing to act on but a recording of dubious origin and lot of speculation!"

"This speculation is based on solid intelligence information and a lot of historical research!" Bail said heatedly. "It's easy to be complacent when the attacks stay out on the Rim. But this army is moving toward the Core. Are we going to wait to hear their footsteps at our doorways before we act?" He waved his arm at the Council. "The Jedi have kept the peace for hundreds of years. But their numbers are dwindling. We have grown soft and lazy behind their protection and left ourselves vulnerable!"

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine stood, silencing the debate. "Queen Amidala, your claim is a serious one," he said. "But we cannot take military action without the approval of the full Senate. I can, however, send a small force to investigate the matter. In the meantime, I will use all my available resources to discover the truth behind these attacks as expeditiously as possible."   
  
  
  


When Obi-Wan returned to the Temple, he immediately started searching for his apprentice. He wanted to apologize for keeping the Queen's visit a secret. He also wanted to know why the images of the Mandalorian soldiers had caused Anakin to project such strong emotions. Obi-Wan hadn't even been aware of the young man's presence until then.

After checking the gardens, the training rooms and the canteen, Obi-Wan headed for the quarters he shared with his Padawan. He surprised to find Anakin in his room, stretched out on his bunk with his hands behind his head. His apprentice rarely spent time in his room for anything but sleeping and tinkering with one of his myriad of half-built droids. Obi-Wan knocked softly in the doorjamb.

"I've been looking all over for you, Padawan." Obi-Wan sat at the desk. "We've been invited to a reception at the Alderaan Legation tonight." Anakin did not respond. "I am sorry I didn't tell you about the Queen's arrival, but it was a last-minute arrangement."

Anakin remained silent, staring at the ceiling. Obi-Wan pressed on. "I want to know what provoked such a strong reaction in you during the briefing. That's how I knew you were there."

Anakin sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Those warriors in that recording – they are the armored soldiers from my vision, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan looked at him appraisingly for a moment. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Anakin stood up and dragged his hand through his hair, agitated. "Yes, I'm sure!" he said, pacing the small room. "I must've had that vision ten times! I'd recognize them anywhere!"

"All right," Obi-Wan soothed. "Calm down."

"How can I calm down?!" Anakin flared. "Obi-Wan, my mother is going to be hurt, maybe even killed, and those soldiers have something to do with it!"

"You don't know that, Anakin," Obi-Wan said testily. "The future--,"

"I know, I know. 'Always in motion, the future is,'" said Anakin bitterly, mimicking Yoda's voice. "But my instincts tell me that Mom is in danger, and I've never had any reason to doubt them before!" When his master did not reply, he crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Request permission to take a leave."

Obi-Wan regarded him coldly. "Why? So you can go to Tatooine?" he asked icily. "I think not. Request denied."

"Then I will make my request to the Council!"

Obi-Wan rose and stood toe-to-toe with his apprentice. The Jedi radiated intimidation, and Anakin felt a bit cowed, despite the fact that he stood nearly a head taller. He knew that threatening to go over his master's head was incredibly disrespectful. But he continued to stare insolently down at his teacher.

"The Council has already refused the Supreme Chancellor's request to send us to Tatooine," Obi-Wan said frostily, choosing for the moment to ignore his Padawan's disrespect. "What makes you think they will grant yours?"

He watched Anakin struggle to control his rising anger. They glared at each other a moment longer, then Obi-Wan turned on his heel. "We cannot discuss anything rationally right now. I will return when you have calmed yourself." He strode to the door.

"Obi-Wan…Master…I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan paused in the doorway, sensing Anakin's efforts to push away his anger and let it dissipate into the Force. When he perceived that the boy was calm, he turned to face him, marveling again at the power that pulsed through the young man.

Anakin sat on the bed with his head in his hands. "I had begun to doubt they were real, until I saw that holo. The Mandalorians…" He looked up pleadingly. "Do they really exist?"

"I honestly don't know, Anakin," Obi-Wan answered. "They certainly did at one time, as any student of galactic history could tell you. They were closely aligned with the Sith. That was over a thousand years ago, before the Jedi hunted them down." He sat down at the desk again. "But Queen Amidala is convinced they are back, and she would not make such an assertion without the evidence to back it up. And Prince Organa obviously agrees with her."

Anakin frowned. "Prince Organa? Is that the old guy who came with Padmé?"

"Old guy? That's no way to talk about the Viceroy of Alderaan," teased Obi-Wan. "Besides, he the same age I am."

"Well, you're old, Master," said Anakin with a cheeky grin. He dodged the expected swipe at his head. "And gray!"

"Who do think gives me these gray hairs? Between you and the Council, I'm surprised I don't look like Master Yoda." Obi-Wan yanked on his Padawan's braid.

"Ow!" cried Anakin. "So what's going on with Prince Organa, anyway? Why did he come with Padmé?"

Obi-Wan smiled slightly as he detected a twinge of jealousy. Pretending to ignore the question, he looked around the room. As usual, every horizontal surface was covered with parts from Anakin's various projects. He picked up what he assumed to be the head of a power droid. "Will you ever finish any of these, or are you just amassing dust collectors?"

"Master!" Anakin whined indignantly.

"They're wildly in love, and are carrying on anytime they can seize a private moment." Obi-Wan immediately regretted his words as he saw the stricken look on his apprentice's face. _Guess I can't tease him about this anymore. _"They are allies, Anakin. Alderaan is a powerful Core world, and Organa's backing bolsters the Queen's influence in this matter. They are united in their goal of goading the Senate into action."

"Whatever," Anakin pouted. "So why didn't you tell me she was coming?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, exasperated. "As I explained, Padawan, it was very last minute. And her schedule is very tight. She is only going to be here for a few days, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if she didn't have time to see you."

Anakin eyed him suspiciously. "She's always made time for me before. Why should this trip be any different?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin, I would be remiss if I did not tell you of the Council's concerns about you. They think that your feelings for Queen Amidala are an unnecessary distraction from your training."

Anakin threw his arms in the air. "I'm not allowed to have feelings for my mother! I'm not allowed to have feelings for Padmé! Tell me, Master, am I permitted to care about anyone, or must I suppress everything?"   
  
"Of course you're allowed to care for others, Ani," Obi-Wan said gently. "And you should not suppress your emotions, only control them, so that they do not control you." He ruffled the young man's hair. _I can hardly reach his head when he's standing_. "And in this case, I disagree with the Council. I know how isolated you feel sometimes. I think your friendship with the Queen is important."

"So I can go see her?" Anakin asked hopefully.

"Yes, Padawan, you may go see her." Obi-Wan gave him a stern look. "Just be sure you don't interfere with her duties or otherwise make a pest of yourself. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Anakin said impatiently as he grabbed his cloak. "I'll see you later," he called over his shoulder as he bolted from the apartment.

"Don't forget about the reception!" Obi-Wan called after him.   
  
  
  


Sabé looked around the empty foyer in confusion. The guard outside had announced a Jedi visitor for the Queen, but there was no one around. She stepped over to the intercom to call the guard for verification. Before she could activate it, she felt something poke her in the back.

"Hey, little girl," came a nasally voice, "ya wanna see my lightsaber?"

Before the speaker finished his sentence, Sabé was in motion, spinning around with her tiny concealed blaster in hand. A powerful hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked up into the grinning face of—

"Anakin Skywalker!" she snapped. "I swear, one of these days…" She waved the blaster menacingly.

"Ooh, promises, promises," he said in his normal voice, flashing her a cocky grin. He bent down to kiss the handmaiden's cheek. "You're as beautiful as ever."

"And you are so full of it," she replied acidly. She craned her neck to look at him as he towered over her. "But I guess that's understandable. You've gotten so tall that no oxygen is getting to that little pea brain of yours."

"And your disposition is just as sweet as always," Anakin observed, laughing as he dodged a vicious right hook. He walked into the sitting room. "So where is she?"

"I am sorry, but Her Highness is not here right now." Sabé grinned wickedly at the anguished look on his face.

There was a long pause as he looked at her expectantly. "So…where can I find her?" he asked.

"Don't know," she said with a smug smile.

"Liar." He tried to be patient, knowing how much she enjoyed tormenting him. "Aw, come on, Sabé, please…"

She let him stew for a few minutes before relenting. "I don't know where _Her Highness_ is. However, _Padmé_ is in her office."

He was looming over her in an instant, humorously threatening. "Do you know what the punishment is for a handmaiden who teases a Jedi?"

"Ooh, promises, promises," she mocked, pushing him away. "Now go see her before you enter hormonal overload."

Anakin headed down the hall. He passed Saché as she was coming out of another room. He gave her a slight bow and a wink as he slipped into the Queen's office.

"Who was that?" Saché asked.

"Anakin Skywalker," answered Sabé with a grin.

"Really?" Saché raised her eyebrows in approval. "Well! He's certainly grown up! And quite nicely, I might add."

"I thought you had your eye on Bail Organa."

"I do, but you know he's enamored of the Queen right now," said Saché. "And it never hurts to have a backup plan."   
  


Anakin looked around the Queen's empty office. The big desk was a disaster area, littered with datacards and flimsies. The data reader was still blinking. Anakin frowned – it wasn't like Padmé to leave her work area in such disarray. He reached out with the Force to locate her. She was out on the balcony. He frowned again as he sensed her frustration and uncertainty.

Slipping soundlessly through the door, he saw her at the far end of the balcony. She was leaning on the railing, gazing out over the city. She was dressed in a simple handmaiden's gown, and her dark hair flowed loose over her shoulders. The strands around her face danced in the light breeze. Anakin simply stared at her for a moment, basking in the warm glow of her presence.

Gliding up behind her, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Are you an angel?"

"Ani!" Padmé cried in delight. Turning around, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"Who else?" he said with a grin. Putting his arms around her, he crushed her in a tight hug, then picked her up and whirled her around, taking her breath away.

"Easy, Ani, you're going to break my ribs!" she laughed. He set her down and kissed her cheek. "Here, let me look at you."

Padmé looked him over, feeling a pleasant thrill of surprise. _Wow_. His holo-messages did not do him justice. Gone was the gangly teenager she had seen four years ago. In his place stood a good-looking young man nearly two meters tall, with broad shoulders and a lithely muscular build. His short blond spikes accentuated his tanned face and handsome features. But his sparkling blue eyes were the same as those of the small boy she had first met on Tatooine. "I can't believe how tall you are!"

Anakin rolled his eyes at the oft-heard remark, then took her hand and raised it to his lips. "And you are lovelier than ever," he said, looking directly into her brown eyes and giving her a roguish grin.

Flushing, Padmé pulled her hand away. "You're still quite the charmer, I see." Suddenly uncomfortable, she moved away from him a bit. "So what are you up to these days?"

"Oh, about 195 centimeters." He flinched as she pulled his braid. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You are such a smart-aleck, Anakin Skywalker!" She took his hand. "Really, how have you been doing?"

"Oh, you know, same stuff, different day. Obi-Wan tortures me, and I give him gray hairs." He gave her a hurt look. "Of course, I would be better if my best friend would tell me that she is coming to visit, instead of just sneaking into town!"

"I hardly sneaked into town!" said Padmé indignantly. She had half-expected this and it put her on the defensive. "It was a last-minute decision and I didn't have a chance to call you, that's all."

"You and Obi-Wan must be using the same script. He said exactly the same thing."

"Anakin, my original itinerary didn't even include coming to Coruscant. I had planned on just going from Naboo to Alderaan—"

Anakin pulled his hand away from hers. "And why were you going to Alderaan, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice cold.

Padmé's eyes narrowed at his tone. "Not that it's any of your business, but I went to confer with Bail Organa about some security matters."

"Oh, really? And why would you need to confer with the Viceroy of Alderaan on matters of Naboo security? Panaka not doing his job?" He turned his back on her, angry and jealous.

Padmé looked at him for a long moment, hurt and confused by his behavior. Finally, she took his arm and pulled him around to face her. He refused to meet her eyes.

"Ani, please," she said. "I had every intention of calling you when we got here. I've really missed you." She touched his face, forcing him to look at her. "We haven't seen each other for four years, and I'm not going to be here long. We shouldn't waste what little time we have together arguing."

His expression softened. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry." He suddenly felt ashamed. She had given him no reason to be angry with her, and he had no right to question her association with other planetary leaders. But he had never considered the possibility that she might be romantically interested in another man, and the mere thought drove him crazy. "I've just been feeling kind of lonely lately, and I was afraid that you were avoiding me."

"I should've called you, Ani, I really should have. But I got so busy, and kept telling myself that I'd call you when I got here and that you would understand." She frowned and touched the last vestige of the bruise on his left cheekbone. "What happened to your eye?"

He blushed. "I beat on another Padawan's fist with my face."

"Why?"

"He insulted my mother." Anxious to change the subject, he intertwined his fingers with hers and smiled. "You know what's weird? I was at Government Center this morning. I was thinking about going to Naboo to visit you, and I looked out the window and there you were, on the landing platform."

"You saw me arrive at the Senate this morning?"

He nodded. "It surprised me, to say the least. So I followed you to the committee meeting."

"That was supposed to be a closed meeting," Padmé said. "How did you get in?"

Anakin studied his boots. "Well, I kind of Mind-Tricked the guards into letting me in," he said sheepishly.

Padmé cocked an eyebrow. "I thought that Jedi weren't supposed to use their powers like that."

"It was a desperate situation!" Anakin said, grinning. "I had to see you!"

Padmé shook her head, smiling. "You're impossible," she said affectionately. "So you saw my presentation?"

He nodded. "Enough of it, anyway." At her puzzled look, he continued, "Those armored soldiers – the Mandalore – I have visions about them."

"Really?" She knew that the Jedi were sometimes able to glimpse the future. "What do you see?"

He didn't answer right away. He dropped her hand and leaned on the railing, his eyes taking on a distant look. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "Obi-Wan says that I can't take all my visions literally, that I need to meditate on them to figure out what they mean."

"So have you meditated on them?" Padmé asked. He shook his head and flashed that roguish grin again, making her feel a little weak-kneed. _What's wrong with me? _"Why not?"

He moved closer to her. "Because I hate meditating. Besides, I'd rather spend that time with you." He took her hand again, caressing it gently. Her cheeks pinkened charmingly. He could sense her confusion and realized that she was affected by his nearness. He smiled to himself, pleased. Maybe she was starting to recognize that he wasn't a kid anymore. Ladies had started to pay a lot of attention to him in the past couple of years, but this was the only woman he wanted to impress.

Padmé met his eyes. _They're so blue_, she thought. _Like Naboo's springtime sky_. Flustered, she stepped away abruptly, heading for the door. "Let's go in and sit down." Entering her office, she sat down behind her desk, and waved him toward a chair. She looked at the mess on the desktop and sighed.

Anakin sat down opposite her and propped his elbows on the desk. He probed at her with the Force. He sensed frustration, anger, and uncertainty. The first two emotions had to so with the Senate, he was sure. The uncertainty was related to something else. He couldn't pinpoint it. _Maybe it's because of me?_ "Never known you to be this disorganized, Padmé. What's wrong?"

She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "I was just wondering how old I'm going to get before the Senate decides to act on my information." She started straightening up the datacards and flimsies.

Anakin reached across the desk and touched her arm. "Leave it," he said. "You need to relax. Why don't we go for a walk in the Temple Gardens?"

Before she could reply, there was a tap at the door and Sabé stuck her head inside. "Pardon me, Your Highness, but it is time to get ready." She smirked wickedly at Anakin, who looked at her as if she was stealing his dessert. He stuck his tongue out at her. She made a rude gesture in return.

"Thank you, Sabé. I'll be right there." Padmé replied, grinning at their exchange.

Sabé shot him an "ha-ha, I win" expression before she withdrew.

Anakin watched Padmé as she finished organizing her paperwork. "Get ready for what?" he asked.

She blew a strand of hair out her face in frustration. "I have a business dinner, then a reception at the Alderaan Legation. You know how long it takes for me to become the Queen."

Anakin stood up to leave. "I have to go to that reception too," he said. He gave her a slight bow. "May I have the honor of escorting you?"

She hesitated. "Thank you, Ani, but Prince Organa is escorting me." Seeing the storm cloud that came over his face, she added hastily, "This has nothing to do with you, Ani. It's politics."

When he said nothing, she came around the desk and took his hand. "How about this? Rabé and Saché are attending me tonight, so Sabé is free. Why don't you escort her, and we'll meet at the reception?"

He regarded her for a moment longer before nodding. "Assuming I can survive an evening with your ill-tempered bodyguard, just promise you'll save me at least one dance."

She laughed, then drew herself up regally. "I will consider it, young Jedi," she said in her Queen Amidala voice. She grabbed his braid and pulled him toward the door. "Now, begone with you, so that I may prepare myself!"   
  


This story is also a thread at tf.n. Click [here][1] to read it! 

   [1]: http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=2090920



	4. Chapter 4

  
Chapter 4   
  


The cloning chamber was massive. Set up like an amphitheater, it rose twenty stories above the floor. There were balconies at each level to allow technicians access to the equipment there. The central column rose from the facility's power core all the way to the ceiling, with pipes branching out from it at every level to feed energy to the systems. These pipes fed into the ductwork that was built into the walls. The ducts, in turn, channeled into tubing that disappeared into the circular metal plate atop each cloning cylinder.

Darth Nemesis stood in the middle of the enormous chamber, taking in the sight with grim satisfaction. Thousands and thousands of cylinders stood ready to incubate his master's army. The army that would destroy the Jedi and propel the Sith to galactic dominance once again.

"What do you think, Lord Nemesis?" asked the man standing beside him. Professor Richtor Spaarti was an elderly human with unruly white hair and a white mustache that drooped over his entire mouth. He was the mastermind behind the cloning technology. His original research had been funded by the Mining Guild and he had been distraught when the Republic had ordered it shut down. So he was delighted when a mysterious benefactor had offered to bankroll this latest effort.

"An impressive facility, Professor," replied Nemesis. "However, I am withholding further judgement until I see some results. Do you have a sample for me?"

"Yes, Lord." Spaarti made a "come-on" gesture with his hand. A boy stepped from the shadows near the door and approached them. He appeared to be twelve or thirteen standard years old, with untidy dark hair and cold dark eyes. Nemesis studied him. There was something wrong with the boy. His presence in the Force was somehow…incomplete.

Spaarti ruffled the boy's hair. "This is the first specimen we produced at this facility," he explained. "We used your Mandalorian colonel – Boba Fett? – as a DNA template."

The Sith Lord's eyes narrowed. "How old is this…specimen, Professor?"

"Two years old, My Lord," the professor replied proudly. His smile disappeared as Nemesis abruptly turned on him and activated his lightsaber. He stumbled back and fell down. The boy screamed.

"We cannot wait years for these things to grow to maturity, Professor," Nemesis hissed. He waved the blood-red blade menacingly under the old man's chin. "You told me that you could produce mature life-forms in a matter of months." He swung the blade across Spaarti's chest, scorching the fabric of his dirty lab coat.

"I can, I can!" the professor cried as he scuttled backwards across the floor. "The organ systems of accelerated clones degenerate very quickly, and it took some time to learn how to stabilize them! But we can now! I promise!"

Nemesis traced a few more burns in Spaarti's clothing before deactivating his lightsaber. He used the Force to jerk the old man to his feet. "Don't be so hasty with your promises, Professor," he said in a deadly voice, "until you are certain you can deliver. My master is not nearly as forgiving as I am. Now show me how you manufacture these beings."

"Yes, Lord," said Spaarti. "We are almost finished with our first production run." He waved his hand at the boy. "What shall I do with him?"

"Give him to Fett," Nemesis suggested. "A man of his ego would enjoy having a duplicate."

The professor led the Sith up the stairs to observe the production units. He was increasingly nervous about dealing with this dark man and his shadowy master. He refused to think about what evil they would perpetrate using his clones. _The research is what is important,_ he thought. _Isn't it?_   
  
  
  


Darth Sidious shut down his communications console and allowed himself a smile of smug satisfaction. The report from his apprentice confirmed that everything was going according to his plan. Professor Spaarti was already producing his army. The facility itself was well protected, hidden under a mountain, with its emanations suppressed by giant energy-dampers. It would remain undiscovered until he desired otherwise.

He was a bit disappointed that the attack on Sessone had yielded so few decent specimens. Nemesis had informed him that many of the people there were tainted by intermarriage with the indigenous population. Sidious snorted in disgust. That practice would come to an end in the new order he would build.

But that was of little importance at the moment. The Sessone mines were intact, and his army would be in place before the Alderaanians could muster the resources to try and reclaim them.

He had also given Boba Fett his marching orders for the next attack. The Mandalorian colonel was quite upset with the target, arguing that there was no glory to be had in an assault on a dustball planet populated by gangsters and scavengers.

No glory, perhaps, Sidious mused, but potentially much to be gained. The boy was powerful, but could be even more so. It was time to sow the seeds.   
  
  
  


Obi-Wan was surprised that the Council allowed him to sit in on their discussion of the apparent return of the Mandalore. The Queen's revelation disturbed the Masters more than they had initially let on. Starting with the Outbound Flight debacle, more and more Jedi had been turning up dead in far-flung corners of the galaxy, with a good many others vanishing without a trace. Had the Naboo stumbled across the reason for these disappearances?

"Important we discover the truth in this matter," Yoda said. "Craved power and conquest the Mandalore did. I fear their return is not a coincidence. Allied with the Sith most likely they are. As before."

"We have seen no trace of the Sith since the death of Qui-Gon Jinn," said Even Piell. He glanced at Obi-Wan. "And there is no evidence that the creature Obi-Wan struck down was a Sith Lord."

Mace cut in before Obi-Wan could object. "It was a Sith that struck down Master Jinn. Obi-Wan's own report detailed the fanatical hatred he sensed. Only a trained Sith Lord could defeat a master Jedi."

"Then where have they been for the last ten years?" retorted Piell. "We've scoured the galaxy and haven't found a trace of them!"

"We didn't detect the evil behind the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo either, Master," Obi-Wan pointed out. "But it was there nonetheless."

Yoda leaned forward and rapped his gimmer stick on the floor. "Listen to Obi-Wan, we should! These dark forces are biding their time. Vigilant, we need to be."

"Prince Organa wants the Senate to unify the various planetary military forces into a single Republic Fleet," said Mace. "He feels very strongly that this threat can only be dealt with combined strength, especially from the Core Worlds."

"That is unlikely to happen," said Master Adi Gallia. "Many of the Core Worlds would not see it as being in their best interests. The danger is not close enough. The Corporate Sector will not want to expend capital on military forces that could be pulled away from their business interests. The size and validity of the threat is not yet known." She did not mention the obvious: that the moribund Senate would never be able to come to an agreement on so drastic an action.

"What about the reports of possible cloning?" asked Ki-Adi Mundi.

Adi smiled slightly. "Queen Amidala is very well informed. The device she pointed out is indeed used for selecting templates for cloning." She went on, "The Mining Guild experimented with it some twenty-five or thirty years ago, trying to create a profitable replacement for slaves. But the clones were all mentally unstable, and the ones generated with accelerated growth cycles were subject to severe organ degeneration and died very quickly, usually in a matter of weeks."

"Who would perpetrate such an abomination of the Force?" asked Master Saesee Tiin.

"It's not all abominable, Master," said Obi-Wan. "Queen Amidala herself considered using cloning to regenerate some of Naboo's endangered species. But it turned out to be cost-prohibitive. The technology is not cheap." He looked around. He was still not completely comfortable in front of the Council, but they were listening to him. "If someone is mass-producing soldiers, then they have access to an incredible amount of financing. Possibly at the level rivaling planetary governments."

"One of the Corporate worlds, perhaps?" suggested Ki-Adi.

"What could they possibly hope to gain?" asked Mace.

"The usual things," said Adi. "Money. Power. Many of them have worked to overturn the anti-slavery laws. Perhaps they wish to use clones to get around the laws."

"Obi-Wan," said Yoda. "Take Skywalker and investigate this matter. Bode well it does not, if the Sith have formed alliances with powerful Republic members."

Obi-Wan looked at the skeptical faces of the Council as they silently communicated with one another. Besides Yoda, only Mace, Ki-Adi Mundi and Adi Gallia believed that the Sith and their Mandalore henchmen could have returned.

Obi-Wan desperately hoped they were wrong.   
  



	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5   


Queen Amidala had arranged for a VIP shuttle to take them to the reception. When it glided to a halt in front of the Alderaan Legation, Anakin climbed out, then turned to assist Sabé. As she stepped out of the vehicle, flashbulbs went off everywhere. The tabloid press was out in force, recording the comings and goings of the rich and powerful.

"What the--?" Anakin raised a hand to shield his eyes. "Why are they taking holos of us?"

"Because the shuttle has Naboo's Royal Crest on it," Sabé explained. They were probably hoping to get the Queen."

"Sheesh," he complained as the cameras continued to click. "How does she stand it?"

"_She_ doesn't, most of the time," Sabé answered caustically.

"Ah, the dirty decoy job." Anakin offered Sabé his arm and they walked toward the entrance. She might not be the Queen, but Anakin had to admit that Sabé looked exquisite. Her dark green gown clung to her slender figure in all the right places, while its gold trim picked up the amber flecks in her brown eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and gathered at the back of her head with a green ribbon, leaving the rest to tumble down her back like a waterfall.

But even the most beautiful rose had thorns, and Anakin was willing to bet that despite the gown's…clinginess, Sabé had her tiny blaster concealed somewhere underneath it. And probably a vibroknife, as well. He smirked. He wouldn't have to worry about protecting her from any drunken advances. He would just have to keep her from gutting the man who made them.

As they entered the Legation, Anakin spotted Queen Amidala in the receiving line, next to Bail Organa. She was a vision in a golden gown shot through with pink and lilac highlights, her dark hair wound around a golden headpiece. She reminded him of a Tatooine sunset_. She's even more beautiful when she's just Padmé_. Anakin caught his breath as an image of Padmé in Sabé's slinky green gown formed in his mind.

A sharp pain in his ribs brought him back to reality. He looked down to see Sabé shaking her head. _You're hopeless_. Her thought rang in his head.

He bit back his jealousy as he watched Prince Organa whisper into the Queen's ear, eliciting a smile from her. Then it was his and Sabé's turn to go through the line. Anakin announced them to the majordomo, who in turn introduced them to Senator Bail Antilles and his wife, Solace. Next was Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, who greeted Anakin with a handshake and an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and complimented Sabé as he kissed her hand.

When they got to Organa and Queen Amidala, Anakin resisted the urge to crush the man's hand when he said, "Oh, yes, Skywalker. The Queen has told me a lot about you."

"All good, I hope, sir," Anakin said, trying to keep his expression neutral. Then he bowed to the Queen and took her hand, gazing into her eyes. "You look absolutely stunning this evening, Your Highness." Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he raised her hand to his mouth. But instead of the customary brush, he pressed his lips firmly against her fingers and kept them there just a moment longer than protocol dictated.

Amidala was suddenly glad of her court makeup as she felt her cheeks heat up. "Thank you, Jedi Skywalker," she replied formally, her eyes sweeping over him. He looked very dashing. His starched white dress shirt and tailored black pants tucked into shiny black boots complimented his athletic frame much better than his Jedi tunics. The formal black cape gave him an air of elegance that she would never have thought possible of the grungy slave boy from Tatooine.

"Don't forget that dance," he said softly, squeezing her hand.

"Laying it on a little thick, weren't you?" Sabé asked archly as they moved into the main ballroom. "What have you been doing for the last four years, going to charm school?"

"After I almost caused a diplomatic incident a couple of years ago, Obi-Wan decided that he had to housebreak me for these things," Anakin explained.

"What kind of incident?"

He flushed. "Well, let's just say it had to do with a consular official's wife and the access card for her private apartment." He grinned sheepishly as Sabé burst into laughter.

"Only you," she said.   
  


As the evening wore on, Anakin grew more and more impatient. He had mingled with the guests, had drinks with Obi-Wan and some of the other Jedi, and was trying to fend off advances from the tipsy wife of a Corellian official. He had yet to get his dance with the Queen. It seemed that every time he tried to approach her, she was swept away by Prince Organa or some other dignitary.

He smiled tightly at the Corellian woman, who was still prattling on about something and continually touching him on the arm. Looking across the room, he saw Queen Amidala watching his discomfiture with amusement. He rolled his eyes, and she winked and smiled before turning back to her conversation with Senator Antilles and Bail Organa.

He slipped away from the woman when her husband came up to speak with her, heading for Obi-Wan and Sabé. As he walked up, he heard his master say, "…and he followed her across the room, holding the card over his head and shouting, 'Ma'am, ma'am, I don't think you meant to give this to me!' Everyone in the room started laughing. Needless to say, the woman was quite embarrassed, and her husband was furious."

Sabé laughed heartily. Obi-Wan continued, "Anakin was quite innocent, but I had to hustle him out before the man could kill him." The Jedi grinned at his apprentice. "Hello, Padawan. Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah, loads," Anakin muttered. Looking around, he spied the Corellian woman headed for him again. He grabbed Sabé's hand. "Come on, let's dance."

He pulled her onto the dance floor. Sabé spotted his pursuer and smirked. "It seems that you have an admirer."

Anakin blushed, then gave her a smug smile. "What can I say? Women love me." He put his hand on her back and pulled her up against him.

"Oh, please," Sabé said sarcastically, pushing him away. "Cool your jets, Jedi-Boy."

He laughed, then took her in his arms as the dance began. "I should have told you earlier, but you really do look beautiful tonight," he said sincerely. He knew it sounded sappy and he braced himself for one of her biting retorts.

She surprised him. "Thank you, Anakin," she said, equally sincere. "And if I may say so, you have grown up to be quite handsome and charming yourself. I can understand why women take notice of you."

"Yeah," he said, "all except for the one I want to notice me." He looked over at Queen Amidala, who was still engrossed in conversation with Bail Organa.

_Oh, she noticed you, all right_. Sabé had not missed the Queen's reaction to Anakin's attentions in the receiving line. And Padmé had been unusually quiet earlier while the handmaidens prepared her for the reception. She had snapped at Saché, who was babbling continually about how attractive Anakin had turned out to be.

Sabé knew that Anakin had had a crush on Padmé from the time they had first met, and despite their age difference, they had become the best of friends. She also knew that while Padmé was touched by the boy's affections, she had never taken them seriously. But Anakin wasn't a child anymore, and his feelings were evidently more grown up as well. She wondered how he would react when he found out that Bail Organa was courting the Queen. _It won't be pretty_.

Choosing her words carefully, she said, "She's very busy, Anakin. You know that. And having a personal life has never been high on her list of priorities."

Anakin looked at her warily, sensing her evasion. He started to say something about it, then thought better of it. She might not appreciate him probing at her mind, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of her acid-tongued comments. They danced in silence for a few minutes.

"Looks like Obi-Wan ended up with my problem," he said, nodding in his master's direction. The Corellian woman was now hanging on Obi-Wan's arm.

"Why do I think that he ends up with a lot of your problems?" Sabé teased.

"He's my master; that's his job."   
  


Amidala stole surreptitious glances at her handmaiden and the Jedi Padawan as she talked with Senator Antilles and Bail Organa. _They certainly seem to be enjoying each other's company_. She couldn't help feeling a stab of jealousy. Sabé had the freedom to show herself off, to dress as the attractive young woman that she was. Amidala's first instinct when Anakin had offered to escort her this evening was to say yes and send Sabé out dressed as the Queen while she herself went out as Padmé. What would it be like to step out in that slinky green gown and be admired as a woman, not just as the Queen?

Watching the easy way Anakin held Sabé as they danced, Amidala felt another jab of envy. She recalled the heat of his lips on her fingers and the little shock of pleasure she felt when he looked in her eyes. Like he was peering into her soul. She was suddenly impatient for Anakin to ask for his dance. What would it feel like to have his arms around her? Not in a platonic hug, but pressing her against his body, his lips on hers--.

_Get a grip, Padmé_, she chastised herself. What was it about Anakin that made her feel like a giddy teenager? He had grown up to be very handsome – _okay, gorgeous,_ she admitted – but she was often around attractive men, and none of them affected her this way. Not even Bail, and he was considered one of the galaxy's Most Eligible Bachelors. And Anakin was her friend; perhaps her best friend besides Sabé. And he was too young for her.

(You're just a little boy)

Her heart jumped when she saw him watching her from the dance floor. _He's all grown up now._

(I won't always be)

"Your Highness?"

Senator Antilles' voice pulled her out of her reverie. She saw him and Bail looking at her with concern.

"Are you all right, Amidala?" Bail asked. "You seem a bit distracted."

_You have no idea_. "I'm fine, Bail. But I could use some air."

"Let's go out on the verandah," Bail suggested, offering his arm. "Senator, if you will excuse us?"   
  


The song ended and they applauded the orchestra. Anakin lead Sabé off the dance floor, then said, "Why don't you go rescue Obi-Wan while I make Her Highness keep her promise to dance with me?"

Sabé nodded and squeezed his hand in encouragement. "I thought I saw her go out onto the verandah." She smiled as Anakin kissed her cheek and hustled off. _I hope she doesn't break his heart_.

Anakin stepped out onto the verandah and looked around. Spotting a flash of her golden gown, he started toward it, then jerked back into the shadows. She wasn't alone.

Jealousy coursed through him as he saw Queen Amidala and Bail Organa talking quietly. They were standing close to one another, and though he could not hear their words, he could sense their affection for each other. Anakin watched with barely controlled anger as Organa took Amidala's hand in his own. When he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, Anakin tore his lightsaber from his belt. He was on verge of activating it before his common sense caught up with him. Angry, hurt, and on the edge of tears, he spun on his heel and left the verandah.

Behind him, Bail Organa gasped and put his hand to his throat. He sputtered and coughed a few times.

"Bail, are you all right?" asked Amidala.

"Yes," he answered. "That was strange. It felt like someone grabbed my throat."

Back inside, Anakin grabbed a drink from a passing waiter's tray and downed half of it in one swallow. He leaned back against the wall, his breath coming in great gulps as he fought back his tears_. I'm such a fool._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Chapter 6   
  
  
  


Obi-Wan stalked into their quarters with murder on his mind. His apprentice's abrupt departure from the reception was not only a serious breach of propriety, it was also incredibly rude to Sabé. Obi-Wan had ended up escorting the handmaiden back to the Naboo apartments and apologizing for Anakin's behavior. He thought that she would have some choice words on the matter, but Sabé had uncharacteristically brushed it off, her emotions shaded with anger and disappointment. He had a feeling that she knew why Anakin had left so suddenly, but she wasn't talking. 

In truth, he didn't really care why. Anakin was old enough to understand his responsibilities and carry them out, without letting his personal concerns get in the way. Sometimes his immaturity was incredible. 

Obi-Wan sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. He debated whether to wake Anakin now or wait to torture him in the morning. Then he spotted the empty bottle on the kitchen counter. He picked it up, then grinned evilly. Corellian brandy. He would definitely wait until the morning. That bottle had been nearly full_. He's going to feel like bantha poodoo._

Obi-Wan tossed the bottle in the trash, feeling a bit mollified. He was going to have to explain his Padawan's behavior to the Council, but making Anakin train with a hangover would almost make up for it. 

*********** 

_The armored soldiers marched through the rubble. Behind them, smoke billowed over the city's graceful white skyline. Anakin looked behind him at the gathered defenders, a ragtag band of local police and surviving soldiers. He activated his lightsaber and prepared to fight the invaders._

_"Anakin!" a woman's voice came. He lowered his saber and looked around, oblivious to the flying energy bolts. "Ani, help me!" No one else seemed to hear it. He left the battle and ran through a maze of buildings and debris, searching for the voice. "Hurry, Ani, hurry!" it urged him._

_He burst into a gutted building, straining to see in the semi-darkness. "Ani," the voice came again, weaker this time. He lit his saber, throwing its light across the room. A figure lay on the floor, its hands outstretched. "Ani…"_

_"Mom!" he heard himself scream. He started to run her, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back. He jerked desperately against the unseen force, but was unable to break free. Turning, he saw a hand clutching his cloak in an iron grip. The owner was hidden in the shadows. "Let me go!" Anakin cried. He screamed as crushing pain enveloped his torso. Finally, he slipped out of the Jedi cloak, leaving it hanging in the mysterious fist. He ran to his mother, only to have her disappear in front of his eyes. He threw back his head and howled, "Noooooooo!"_

Anakin jerked himself up panting, his head pounding. He looked around his darkened room, wondering if he had screamed aloud. The vision was more vivid than ever before, and more urgent. It was driving him in some way. Pushing aside his sweat-soaked covers, he swung his legs out of bed and reached for his clothes.   


************ 

  


Yoda sat by the waterfall, in almost the exact same spot Anakin had been a couple of days before. He sensed Obi-Wan's approach, feeling the younger man's worry. The Jedi Master's ears drooped as a wave of profound sadness washed over him. They stood at a divide in the path of things to come and he could not see the destination along either way. For the first time in his long life, Yoda feared for the future. 

"Master Yoda." Obi-Wan stepped into the clearing and knelt beside the tiny Jedi. "Anakin has left—" 

"Know where he is going, I do," interrupted Yoda. "Unfortunate, this is, but not entirely unexpected. Reckless is he. His fear is driving his actions." 

"Master, I must go after him—," Obi-Wan began. 

"No," Yoda interrupted him again. "You cannot." He held up a hand to stop any further argument. "This ordeal must be Skywalker's alone to face. Chosen to act before he is ready, he has. You cannot help him" 

Obi-Wan struggled to control his rising anxiety. Anakin had always followed his heart, trusting his feelings and allowing the Force to guide him in whatever direction it chose to lead him, even when it differed from the course desired by his masters. In that way, the young man was much like Qui-Gon Jinn. But he had never disobeyed Obi-Wan or the Council in a matter of this importance, and Obi-Wan suddenly feared for his Padawan in a way he could not explain. 

"Told you where he was going, did he?" Yoda asked. 

"Not directly, Master. He left a message," said Obi-Wan, his voice tinged with sadness. "He said that the he felt driven, that the situation was too urgent to ignore. He apologized, saying that I deserved a more obedient Padawan." 

Yoda was strangely heartened by that news. "Shame he feels in his actions, then, not defiance. He could not face his teacher with his disobedience. Knows he is wrong, he does." He chewed his gimmer stick thoughtfully. "Perhaps he will choose wisely." 

At Obi-Wan's puzzled expression, he continued, "Several paths lie before young Skywalker. His own destiny will he choose. His own future. And that of the Jedi." He sighed heavily, a grunting sound. "Arrogant we have become, Obi-Wan. So sure we are of our own place in the way of things. Change our thinking we must, if we are to fight the coming darkness."   


********** 

  


"A private communication for you from the Jedi Temple, Your Highness," reported Sabé from the doorway of the Queen's bedroom. 

Padmé turned from her dresser, where she sat patiently while Rabé styled her hair for her meeting with Chancellor Palpatine. "Transfer it back here, please, Sabé," she said. Maybe it was Anakin, calling with an explanation for his sudden exit from the party the night before. He hadn't claimed his dance or even said goodbye. 

"Just a moment, Rabé." Padmé got up and pulled a robe on before stepping over to the terminal. She activated it, but instead of Anakin, she looked into the grim countenance of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

"I apologize for disturbing you this morning, Your Highness," he began. 

Padmé waved her hand in a dismissing manner. "It's all right. What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" 

"Anakin is missing, Your Highness," he said. 

"What?!" Her eyes widened. "Does this have something to do with last night?" 

The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. "Sabé could probably tell you more about that than I can. I think she knows, but she wouldn't tell me." He sobered quickly. "When I got in last night, he was passed out drunk on his bed. When I went to get him this morning, he was gone. He left me a message saying that his mother was suffering, and he could no longer wait on the Jedi to help her. He went to Tatooine, probably to try to free her and the other slaves." 

"Aren't you going to help him?" asked Padmé. _Anakin, what have you done?_

"That's why I called you," he said. "Master Yoda has forbidden me to go after him. And I have other responsibilities that I must carry out. I am leaving for Sessone tonight. But he needs help." He paused a moment. "I'm asking _you_ to go after him, Padmé. You're his best friend. He trusts you like no other." 

Padmé was silent for a moment. She had a meeting with Palpatine, the Defense Committee was convening again today, and she needed to return to Naboo, there were so many things that needed her attention. She couldn't possibly drop everything to run off after a misguided nineteen-year-old Jedi. 

_He would do it for you, Padmé_. The thought came unbidden. The fact that Obi-Wan, who was usually so formal, had addressed her by her name let her know how important this was. She closed her eyes briefly. _His mother_…_oh, Ani_. 

"Of course, Obi-Wan. I'll leave as soon as possible." 

"Thank you, Your Highness. May the Force be with you." He terminated the connection. 

Padmé turned her laser-beam gaze on Sabé, who suddenly found the floor the most interesting thing in the room. "All right, Sabé, let's have it."   
  



	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Chapter 7   
  
  
  


The grizzled freighter captain glanced nervously over his shoulder at the hooded figure standing behind him. This was his passenger's first appearance in the cockpit. In fact, it was his passenger's first foray out of the small cargo hold he was using as a cabin, and it made the old spacer distinctly uneasy. The traveler appeared to be little more than a boy, but the sheer size of the kid and his surly demeanor had prompted the captain to keep his distance. 

Anakin smiled grimly beneath the hood of his cloak, his arms crossed over his chest. He had used the Force to keep the old man on edge for the entire trip. He didn't want any interaction with anyone; he just wanted to get to Tatooine. The only reason he was up here now was because they were getting ready to drop out of hyperspace. 

"Coming up on Tatooine," said the captain, reaching for the hyperdrive controls. 

"Take us down to the Mos Espa spaceport," ordered Anakin. These were the first words he had exchanged with the pilot since Coruscant, when he had pressed all of his money into the man's fist and demanded passage. He had only enough credits to get him to Tatooine. He wasn't worried about getting back. _There's nothing to go back to_. 

He felt a strange tingling in his Force-sense. Something was wrong. "Drop us to sublight now!" he shouted. 

"But--" protested the other man. 

"Just do it!" yelled Anakin, stepping toward the pilot. 

The captain pulled back on the hyperdrive lever, dropping them back into normal space. The Force-tingling grew stronger. Anakin peered through the cockpit window. "I have a bad feeling about this," he murmured. 

"I don't see anything," protested the captain. 

"There," said Anakin, pointing. A large dark cruiser, barely visible against the starry backdrop of space, hung over the dirty brown orb of Tatooine. 

"What kind of ship is that?" the captain asked. 

Anakin's reply was cut off by two small triangular craft flashing by the cockpit. A moment later, the ship rocked from the concussion of several near-misses. _Fighters_, Anakin thought as he regained his balance. Then the realization struck him: the Mandalorians were here! He fought back his rising panic. 

The captain swore viciously and clutched the controls. He punched new coordinates into the navicomputer and started to bring the freighter about. 

"What are you doing?" Anakin demanded. 

"What's it look like I'm doin', kid? I'm getting the hell outta here!" The old pilot continued to turn the ship as a wave of fighters burst from the cruiser and headed their way. 

"Turn this bucket around," Anakin ordered coldly. "I paid you to take me to Tatooine and that's what you're going to do." 

"Are you nuts?!" exclaimed the captain. "I don't have any weapons! We could be killed going up against those fighters!" 

Anakin pushed his hood back and pinned the captain with an icy blue gaze. "If we face those fighters, you only _might_ be killed." He ignited his lightsaber and held it inches from the old man's face. The shimmering green blade cast a sickly glow across his features. "If you don't turn around, you _will_ be killed." 

Quailing in the face of Anakin's fury, the captain turned back to the controls and swung the ship back toward Tatooine. He mumbled something about a Jedi and an immovable object under his breath as his hands danced across the panel. 

Anakin straightened up in satisfaction. The feeling was only momentary, as he quickly realized that the captain was not a skilled enough pilot to take on the fighters, especially with no weapons. The ship bucked under the withering fire. Lights flashed and alarms blared as the laser blasts began to take their toll on the freighter's shields. 

Anakin jerked the captain out of the pilot's chair and tossed him unceremoniously to the floor of the cockpit. Taking over the controls, he yanked the safety harnesses across his body before throwing the freighter into a mad spiral, dodging between the fighters. He smiled in grim satisfaction as several fighters destroyed each other in the crossfire. 

Anakin headed for the cruiser, jinking the ship in every direction to avoid the laser blasts coming from the fighters. The freighter had not taken any more direct hits since he took over the controls, but the concussions from the near-misses were taking a toll on the systems. The shields were completely gone. An engine warning light on the console flared up, and Anakin let loose a nasty stream of Huttese curses. He was losing power to the starboard engine. 

Shutting down the damaged engine, Anakin rerouted the power to the remaining two. He was drawing closer to the cruiser and he wondered why it hadn't started firing on him yet. Maybe it didn't have any weapons. Acting on this hunch, he bore down full throttle on the large ship, heading for a tower that he knew had to be the bridge. 

"Are they insane?!" the cruiser's captain screamed as they watched the dilapidated ship grow larger in the viewport. The bridge crew dove for cover as the freighter flashed past the transparisteel, missing the cruiser by meters. 

"Track them!" ordered the captain. 

"It's diving into the planet, sir," reported the sensor tech. Through the bridge viewport, they could see the old ship falling toward Tatooine, seemingly out of control. "Engines are dead, sir, and there are no life signs." 

"Hmm, the fighters must have inflicted more damage than we thought," said the captain. "Let it go. Maybe it will crash close enough to the Hutt for him to salvage some of the cargo." He smiled grimly. "Or better yet, perhaps it will land on the Hutt himself."   


********** 

  


Padmé ran quickly through the pre-flight checks. The shuttle she had leased was old, but in good condition. Most importantly, the hyperdrive was well-kept. It would get her safely to Tatooine, then back home. She would have to arrange for someone to return it to Coruscant later. As far as she knew, there was no branch for Crazy Eddie's Superb Rental Shuttles on Naboo. 

As she powered up the shuttle, the vehicle's proximity alarm went off. Someone was standing too close to the ship for her to bring the engines to full power. Looking through the cockpit's side window, she saw a small figure with a large duffel bag standing beside the place where the ramp would be when it was lowered. _Sabé. I should have known_. 

She opened the side window. "Sabé, move away from the ship," she ordered. The handmaiden didn't budge. "Sabé, I can't take off if you don't move," she ground out through clinched teeth. She was starting to get angry. Sabé crossed her arms and turned to face her, expressionless. She was obviously determined to get her way. 

The handmaiden would not move far enough away to allow her to lift off, no matter how loudly Padmé yelled at her. Huffing in frustration, she slapped the ramp control. _I ought to override the alarm and toast her when I take off, _she thought sourly. Sabé appeared in the cockpit a moment later. Padmé silently waved her into the co-pilot's seat, then powered up the engines and took off. 

She guided the shuttle into the air lanes and scanned the sky. She spotted a large passenger liner lumbering towards space. Accelerating a bit, Padmé slid in underneath the big ship and matched its speed. She kept the shuttle in the liner's shadow until they were past Coruscant Traffic Control, then peeled away and punched Tatooine's coordinates into the navicomputer. As soon as the computer returned the route, she grabbed the hyperdrive control arm and turned it. The stars elongated as the shuttle went to lightspeed. 

"Why are we sneaking away?" Sabé's voice broke the silence. Padmé glanced at her, then busied herself with the ship's panel. "You didn't announce us to Traffic Control, so there's no record of our departure." 

"Handmaiden, I told you to stay in the apartment and decoy for me," Padmé said icily, her voice dropping into the tones she used as the Queen. "You disobeyed." 

"I'm sorry, _Your Highness_," Sabé said acidly, "but there was no way in hell I was letting you run off to that sandbox of a planet by yourself. It's too dangerous. I don't care how cleverly you planned to disguise yourself." 

"This is a personal matter, Sabé. I'm acting as Padmé, not as the Queen." 

"You can't separate the two. Padmé _is_ the Queen," Sabé argued. "And since the Queen couldn't be bothered to tell her Chief of Security where she is going, her personal bodyguard and best friend is tagging along." Her eyes bored into Padmé's. 

Padmé reached out and squeezed Sabé's arm, touched by her friend's loyalty. "I appreciate your company, Sabé, but it was not necessary for you to follow me." 

Sabé grinned. "It was as much for my protection as yours," she said. Padmé cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "You think I want to be hanging around when Panaka discovers you're gone? I'd hate to be in Rabé's shoes when he gets back from his meeting." 

"Rabé is pulling decoy duty? How'd you manage that?" 

"I didn't give her a choice," replied Sabé. "Besides, you know she's not intimidated by Panaka. She won't tell." 

"Maybe not," said Padmé, "but what about the others?" 

"No problem there. They're more afraid of _me_ than they are of _him_." Sabé grinned evilly. 

Padmé snickered. Her handmaidens generally got along well, but Sabé's quick temper and sharp tongue had cut through all of them at one time or another. She usually got what she wanted. 

Sabé sobered. "You didn't answer my question. Why did we sneak away from Coruscant?" 

"I didn't have enough cash, so I had to use a credit chip to pay for the shuttle. Panaka will trace that easily. But since we didn't file a flight plan or get a departure clearance, he won't know where we're going. And neither will the Jedi Council – I hope." 

"So why don't you want them to know where we're going?" 

Padmé sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's a touchy situation. The Jedi have forbidden Anakin to see his mother until after he completes his training. And they would not allow Obi-Wan to go after him, so I'm sure they wouldn't be pleased with my going. Anakin may be punished or even expelled – I don't know how they handle these things. He will most certainly try to free his mother, and probably the other slaves as well. It's been eating at him ever since Qui-Gon took him away". 

She leaned back in the pilot's seat. "If Panaka finds out, he'll go in with the Royal Starship, a couple of squadrons of fighters, and a brigade of troops. Politically, we can't afford that. The Senate has not approved an emancipation mission for Tatooine, and the Naboo government cannot be officially involved in what would essentially be an illegal operation." 

"But the head of the Naboo government is getting herself involved," Sabé pointed out. 

"No, she's not," Padmé insisted. "Padmé Naberrie, private citizen, is getting herself involved." 

Sabé rolled her eyes. "They are one and the same." She held up her hand to ward off any more argument. "But since you are determined to do this, I am convinced I made the right decision. Especially since you can't pack worth a damn." 

Padmé frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"Show me your weapon," ordered Sabé. The other woman looked at her in confusion, then pulled out a tiny blaster, the same kind carried by all the handmaidens. "I thought as much," Sabé said in disgust. "Come on." Grabbing Padmé by the arm, she led the way back to the shuttle's small cabin. 

The large duffel bag was thrown into a corner of the room. Grabbing it, Sabé unhooked the catch and dumped the contents on one of the tiny bunks. An assortment of large blaster rifles, thermal detonators, laser pistols, and other weaponry fell onto the mattress. There was even a Gungan electropole. 

"Courtesy of General Tarpals," Sabé explained as Padmé hoisted the electropole in wonder. "He gave it to me after our last exercise with the Gungan army." 

"Ah," Padmé murmured in understanding. She recalled the grudging respect the old Gungan had developed for Sabé's grasp of tactics. She looked at the pile of weapons. "Well. Everything a traveling girl needs." 

"Especially in that vacation spot of the Galaxy, Tatooine. Vast deserts inhabited by gangsters, slavers, smugglers, and Hutts. What more could you want from a holiday?" Sabé started putting the weapons back into the bag. 

Padmé sat on the other bunk. "What I don't understand," she mused, "is why Anakin would choose to do this now. I mean, he's been worried sick about his mother for years. Why jeopardize his future now, when he's so close to his dream?" 

Sabé rolled her eyes. _How can someone so intelligent be so stupid?_ She pulled a small data reader from her cloak and tossed it to Padmé. "Look, I already told you what happened last night. Maybe this will give you another clue." She stalked out of the cabin. 

Padmé watched her go, perplexed. Then she turned on the data reader. It was that day's edition of _The Galactic Inquirer_, the galaxy's largest-selling tabloid news source. There was a holo of her and Bail Organa arriving at the Senate. 

QUEEN OF NABOO SNAGS GALAXY'S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR! screamed the headline. 

"Oh, no." Padmé covered her eyes and flopped back on the bed.   
  



	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Chapter 8   


Anakin clutched the freighter's controls tightly, sweat pouring off of him. With the engines shut down, it took all of his concentration to keep the vessel at the proper descent angle. With the shields gone, he had to control the ship precisely so that it wouldn't burn up in the atmosphere. He used the Force to cover his and the captain's life signs, and to control the temperature. Despite his efforts, the cockpit was still getting hot. 

The Dune Sea grew larger in the viewport as the ship tumbled toward the surface_. A little closer…now!_ He fired the engines and leveled the freighter out fifty meters above the desert plain. The flight controls had been damaged and the handling was a little rough, but he was no longer in any danger of crashing. He quickly got his bearings and banked towards Mos Espa, skimming the ship low over the hot sands. 

"Hey, I'm going to set it down on the outskirts. You can leave whenever you…" He trailed off as he looked over his shoulder. The captain lay on the floor in the corner of the cockpit with his head tilted at an impossible angle. 

_ Sith!_ He hadn't given the old spacer a chance to strap in before throwing the freighter into its wild gyrations. Now the man was dead, his neck broken from being hurled around the cockpit. Anakin had been so intent on their escape that he hadn't even noticed_. Well, at least now I have a ship to take Mom away._

_ Hurry, Ani, hurry!_ The voice was back. And so was the panic. It peaked as he crested a large dune and Mos Espa came into view. Smoke billowed from the city. He saw the triangular fighters zipping away, headed for space. Anakin punched the engines to full power, not caring if he incinerated every life-form within ten kilometers. 

_ Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods..._ The words tumbled around in his head over and over. His hands shook as he flew toward the city. _Please, please, please don't let her be hurt!_

His worst fears seemed to be confirmed as he flashed over the city. There were fires everywhere, and much of the business district was reduced to rubble. Anakin's heart leapt into his throat. The thickest smoke was billowing from the Slave Quarter. He desperately looked for a place to land. 

He barely bothered with the landing thrusters, dropping the ship into a somewhat clear area outside the Slave Quarter. He landed with a hard jolt, causing every rivet in the old vessel to protest. The floor was tilted. _Must've landed on something_, he thought fleetingly as he raced toward the ramp. He punched the ramp control, throwing himself off the end of it as soon as there was enough clearance for his head. 

_ Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods... _He raced through the dusty streets, his panic fed by the stench of burning flesh and the choking smoke in his throat. The air crackled with ionization from energy weapons, making his hair stand on end. He ignored the painful Force ripples from the dying people around him as he clambered through the rubble, frantic to reach the slave hovels. 

He skidded to a halt, his heart threatening to hammer right out of his chest. The Slave Quarter was decimated. Thick, oily smoke rose from the burning hovels, stinging his eyes and burning his lungs. The screams of the dying echoed in his ears. Breathless in his terror, he pulled his cloak across his mouth and nose and made his way through the chaos. He quickly arrived at Shmi's hovel, one of the few not on fire. 

But not untouched. The door hung askew and the roof was crushed. Anakin shouldered the broken door aside and screamed, "Mom! Mom!" 

He frantically searched the small dwelling, but found no sign of her. Where was she? He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, then reached out into the Force. He cried out as the anger, confusion and shock of thousands of beings assaulted him. He closed his eyes and drew the Force around him like a blanket, warding off the sensations while casting about for his mother's presence. 

Would he recognize her Force signature? He'd never touched it with his trained senses, only his instinctive ones. He brushed past hauntingly familiar presences, ones he should recognize but could not quite pin down, most dying, but all in pain. He pulled the Force closer around him, trying to block them out while he searched— 

Then he felt it. That warm flicker of maternal love that had always glowed in the back of his mind as a child, a subconscious recognition that unleashed a flood of memories. He grabbed it with all his strength and tried to pull it in. It was like a thread unraveling from a dark blanket of fear and anguish; he was afraid to pull too hard, lest he break it. Instead, he cautiously followed the connection out, seeking. 

_ Mom?_ He brushed against the presence at the end of the thread. Confusion, fear, then recognition. 

_ ANI, HELP ME!_ The mental scream ripped through his head.   
  
  


***************   


  
  
  


"There's a vessel dropping out of hyperspace, Captain," reported the sensor tech. "Bearing…three-two hundred, range one hundred thousand kilometers." 

"Type?" 

"It appears to be a small shuttle, sir. A personal craft." The tech studied his screen. "Two occupants, no weapons detectable, sensing equipment is minimal. They probably don't know we're here yet." 

"Let's keep it that way." The captain turned to the communications officer. "Lieutenant, send two fighters to get rid of it." 

"There is no need for that, Captain." Darth Nemesis' voice came from directly behind him, causing the captain to nearly jump out of his skin. "That shuttle and its occupants are inconsequential. Do not waste our resources on it." 

_ How does he do that?_ The captain tried to slow his racing heart. "But My Lord—" He gagged as an unseen grip cut off his air supply. Spots swam before his eyes, and he sank to the deck, clawing at his collar. 

"I told you not to question me, Captain." The Sith's voice was low and menacing. "I dislike repeating myself." He released his Force hold. The captain gasped and coughed as he fought for breath. 

"We have new orders," he continued. "We are to return to Concord Dawn. Recall all but one platoon from the surface. Colonel Fett will handle delivery of my master's package."   
  
  


**************   


  
  
  


As she guided the shuttle toward the dusty planet, Padmé saw the telltale wink of a ship going to lightspeed. She thought nothing of it – Tatooine was along the Outer Rim trade routes, with ships coming and going at fairly regular intervals. 

"How hard do you think it will be to find him?" Sabé asked. She sat in the co-pilot's chair, wiping down a blaster rifle with an old rag. 

"Ani won't waste any time getting to his mother. Assuming that Shmi is still in Mos Espa, and that Watto hasn't sold her, it shouldn't be too difficult," Padmé replied. "I know I can find the junk shop, and also her home if we need to go there." 

Sabé set the rifle down and looked at her friend intently. "Padmé, what are you going to do when you find him? Drag him back to Coruscant? Take him to Naboo?" There was no reply. "He's not a kid anymore! He may not listen to you anymore than he did Obi-Wan!" 

Still no answer. "You're not using your head!" Sabé lectured. "You're making this up as you go, and that's not like you. Are you going to help him free his mother? Have you considered the political consequences if you're discovered? Not to mention what could happen if the Hutts get wind of it!" 

Padmé bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at her friend. She knew that Sabé was not really questioning her judgement, but she didn't care for the handmaiden's interrogating tone. She busied herself with the ship's controls. "This is not the first time I've tried this, you know," she said softly. 

Sensing the other woman's surprise, she went on, "You remember about five or six years ago, when Panaka and I got involved in the negotiations for our new starfighter contract?" 

"The one with those huge cost overruns? You were trying to find out where the money was going?" 

Padmé nodded. "After we finished, Panaka and I came here. I tried to buy Shmi's freedom, but Watto wouldn't have it. Said he needed her to keep his books and business straight, and he wasn't going to pay someone when had a perfectly capable slave to do it for him." Her fists clenched around the flight controls as her anger mounted. "That arrogant bastard! To have the audacity to think he can keep people in bondage!" She took a deep breath. "I almost killed him that day." 

Sabé stared at her in shock. "It's true," Padmé admitted. "I had my hand on my blaster, and it took all my control not to draw it on him." 

She lined up the shuttle along the proper descent course and angled it into the atmosphere. "Anyway," she went on, "I believe that Anakin built a device to locate and deactivate the slaves' internal transmitters. When we get Shmi out of here, I will set her up with a home on Naboo—" 

She broke off as she saw the smoke pouring from Mos Espa. "Oh, my gods!" She punched the engines and bolted full speed toward the city. 

"Queen Novala's Ashes…" Sabé swore under her breath as she got a closer look at the destruction. She double-checked the charge on their blaster rifles and pistols, then started cramming thermal detonators into every available pocket in her cloak. 

Padmé ignored her as she circled, searching futilely for a place to land. She couldn't set down on any of the domed roofs, the docking bays were destroyed, and the rubble and debris made landing in the streets impossible. She pounded the console in frustration. 

"We're going to have to land on the outskirts," she told Sabé. "You ready for a run? It'll take some time to get through this chaos." 

She fired the landing thrusters, setting the shuttle down in a sheltered niche as close to the city as she could manage. Sabé wordlessly handed her a rifle. Concealing the weapons under their cloaks and pulling up their hoods, the two young women bolted from the shuttle and ran across the hot sands toward the burning city.   


  


***************   


  


An uneasy sense of _dejá vu_ crept into Anakin's mind as he sprinted through Mos Espa, following the tenuous Force connection he had with his mother. He fingered his lightsaber nervously as he sent reassurance to her. _I'm coming, Mom. I'm coming_-- 

Then the world spun and fiery pain coursed through his body. Anakin collapsed in the street, his cry cut off by a vise-like pressure on his chest. He struggled to his feet, swaying as he tried to collect himself. The crushing sensation in his chest grew stronger, and he gasped for breath. 

_ Hurry, Ani, hurry!_ The voice – his mother's voice -- was so loud that he looked around for her. And realized that he was standing in front of Watto's shop. The entrance was completely blocked by debris. 

He frantically pulled at the stones with his hands to create a small opening. He burst into the building, straining to see in the semi-darkness. _Ani_… her voice came again, weaker this time. He lit his saber, throwing its light across the room. A figure lay on the floor, its hands outstretched, blood pooling under its body… 

Watto. 

Anakin looked away. He had no love for his old master, but even Watto shouldn't have to die so brutally. 

Especially since it deprived Anakin of the privilege of killing the old Toydarian himself. 

"Ani…" Her real voice this time, the sounds in his ears and not in his mind. He saw a booted foot sticking out from behind the counter. 

"MOM!!!" he screamed, running to her side. She was half-buried under a pile of power converters and other heavy equipment from the collapsed shelves behind the counter. He frantically jerked the things off her. The stench of burnt flesh nearly overwhelmed him, but he knelt by her and tenderly cradled her head in his lap. 

"Ani…" she said weakly. She touched his face. "You came back." 

He managed a thin smile through watery eyes. "I promised I would." 

She smiled and closed her eyes. Her hand slid down his cheek and fell across her chest as her body went limp. "No…." Anakin moaned, his throat and chest tightening as despair washed over him. He pressed his forehead to hers. He reached to the Force for help, to channel some healing power, but it eluded his grasp. He could do nothing. 

He cradled her closer, rocking her and murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"   
  



	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 Chapter 9   
  
  
  


The mist drifted over the treetops, giving the forest an eerie cast that Obi-Wan thought fitting for the scene he looked upon. The village, or what was left of it, reeked of fear and death, the crumbled walls and scorched chimneys standing like lonely sentinels over a ghostly graveyard. 

Obi-Wan pulled his cloak tighter around him to fight off the morning chill. This was the fifth such settlement the small task force had visited since their arrival on Sessone, and it looked much the same as the others. Devastated. 

Obi-Wan frowned in bewilderment. Sessone was a mining colony, excavating power crystals that were used in any number of energy-focusing applications. Including lightsabers, although saber-quality crystals were rarely found here. But if this mysterious army was after the mines, why destroy the villages? Crystal mines needed sentient labor – the quality of a crystal was something that had to be judged by eye. It couldn't be programmed into a droid. By wiping out the villages, the army had not only destroyed the labor force, but deprived itself of the miners' expertise as well. It didn't make sense. 

"Jedi Kenobi." A clipped, aristocratic voice interrupted his musing. Obi-Wan turned to see Major Tarkin, the task force commander, approaching him with quick, efficient steps. "My troops have finished searching the village. It is as the others were – annihilated. You may begin your…investigation." Tarkin's last word carried a hint of distaste. 

"Thank you, Major," Obi-Wan replied politely, not missing the man's tone. He surreptitiously studied Tarkin from beneath the hood of his cloak. Major Wilhuf Tarkin was a tall, thin, hatchet-faced man in his early forties, who carried himself with an air of privilege and disdain. He did not care for the Jedi and their ways, though he tried, usually successfully, to conceal it. He was an officer in Republic Military Intelligence, a fairly proficient one, a career choice that puzzled Obi-Wan. Tarkin was the scion of a wealthy Coruscant family, one whose involvement in Republic politics went back generations. A man of his station would normally be expected to graduate from a prestigious university and pursue a suitable vocation, either in the Diplomatic Corps or as an elected official. A career in the military was acceptable, as long it started with graduation from the Republic Military Academy and a regular commission, and proceeded to the Republic Military Attaché Corps, which guaranteed assignment to embassies and duties that would not involve getting dirty with the enlisted troops. 

But according to Obi-Wan's research, Tarkin had taken a far different path. He had attended Central Coruscant College, a good school, but one that did not carry the same prestige as one of the elite Core World schools such as Coruscant University or the University of Aldera. He studied political science and history and after graduation, he enlisted in the Republic Army as an intelligence analyst. Several years later, he was directly commissioned into Republic Military Intelligence, specializing in strategic intelligence analysis. 

Tarkin bothered Obi-Wan on a number of levels. The man was obviously ambitious, but had chosen a dead-end specialty in the military. After twenty-plus years of service, he was only a major, while a line officer of similar background could easily expect to be a colonel, perhaps a general. That had to grate on Tarkin's sense of his own worth, which was very high indeed, even for a man of his wealth and station. He had spent several years as a liaison officer to different Senators, including Palpatine, but had not managed to channel that influence into faster promotion, though according to his service record, his duty performance was impeccable. That duty performance had gotten him his current job, Intelligence Liaison to the Supreme Chancellor. But he was still a major, with no promotion in sight. 

And Tarkin had no command experience whatsoever, yet he was in charge of this expedition, the results of which could have galactic implications. Obi-Wan supposed that Chancellor Palpatine simply wanted to have his own man, a trusted aide, on the scene. That could have been accomplished by attaching Tarkin to the task force in the same way as Obi-Wan was. But Palpatine had insisted that Tarkin command the mission. The soldiers that made up the task force were elite Republic Scouts, and they made little effort to hide their resentment of the chair-warming major who had bumped aside their lieutenant. To give him credit, though, Tarkin had stayed largely out of their way, leaving the bulk of the work to the junior officer and the sergeants. 

Lastly, Obi-Wan's feelings told him that Tarkin bore watching. He sensed no malice or deceit in the man, just a niggling suspicion that the major was not trustworthy. 

Obi-Wan sighed. He'd best get started. "Major, is there anything different at all about this village? Someplace where I could begin, perhaps?" 

Tarkin thought for a moment. "Lieutenant Elluis did mention that the central square in this town is still relatively intact. Also, if I remember correctly" – he paused to glance at a datapad – "this is where the Naboo patrol found the surviving boy." 

Obi-Wan nodded and set off toward the center of the burned and blackened settlement, wishing for the umpteenth time for Anakin's company. His apprentice's uncanny attunement to the shifts and swirls of the Life Force would have made short work of this task, one that would probably take Obi-Wan hours. He frowned at the thought of his wayward Padawan, wondering what he was doing right now. 

A chill rippled through Obi-Wan, one not completely due to the temperature. An uneasy feeling stirred inside him, that sense of something not quite right. Not here, but elsewhere. Not now, but soon. 

(It's something elsewhere…elusive) 

_Don't center on your anxieties, Obi-Wan._ The thought rang in his head so clearly that he almost looked around for Qui-Gon. He allowed himself a slight smile. The chill was gone, but the apprehension remained. He shook it off and continued to the square.   
  
  


********************** 

  
  


Anakin had no idea how long he been sitting there. He moved his mother's body to a low workbench and knelt beside her, burying his face in her shoulder and fighting for control. Numb with grief, he almost missed the low, oppressive buzzing in the Force. Then, his danger-sense kicked into high gear, and he threw himself across the floor as a bolt of blue energy sizzled past his right shoulder. 

Pushing up onto his knees, he saw the helmeted, gray-armored soldiers of his nightmares pushing through the rubble into the shop. He reached for his lightsaber, only to find his right arm flopping uselessly. _Stun bolt_, he thought. _Must've clipped my arm_. He dove behind the counter, a centimeter ahead of a barrage of blaster shots. 

He rolled to his feet, his ignited lightsaber in his left hand. He deflected several bolts, struggling to control his weapon with just one hand. He couldn't seem to get a grip on the Force. Instead of flowing over him easily, it felt almost stifling, as if someone was pressing on his brain_. It's them. The Mandalorians. There's something wrong with them_. He concentrated and pushed out. The soldiers staggered back, but kept their feet. "What _are_ you?!" he shouted. 

Then one of them bent over his mother, prodding at her with his weapon. Anakin saw red. "Stay away from her!" he screamed. He found his hold on the Force and lashed out, throwing the soldiers against walls and shelves. He heard backs snap and skulls crack, and satisfaction surged through him. He leaped from behind the counter, slashing with his saber as more soldiers squeezed through the front door. He whirled and brought the saber down with a powerful overhead chop— 

And almost lost his grip. A large Mandalorian soldier had blocked the saber with a long-handled pike. The lightsaber sparked and hissed, but did not cut through the other weapon. Anakin stared into the soldier's faceplate, seeing his own stunned expression reflected in the black slit visor. 

Anakin spun and slashed at the soldier's legs, but the man was quick. He knocked the saber aside with handle of his weapon, then swung the business end high and sliced deeply into Anakin's numb right arm. At the sight of the crimson stain spreading over Anakin's sleeve, the Mandalore threw his head back and unleashed a blood-curdling war cry. He attacked furiously, his pike twirling, slashing, and jabbing as he looked for a hole in Anakin's defense. 

Anakin's mind raced as he frantically parried the man's strokes. The Mandalore was not as tall as Anakin, but he was heavier and stronger. Anakin was quicker, but that edge was lost in the confines of the shop, and as fatigue and blood loss took their toll. His left arm ached from warding off the heavy blows. His right arm hung uselessly and would probably hurt like hell when he got the feeling back in it. Anakin sensed the other soldiers circling, positioning themselves for a shot at him. With no chance to mount any type of attack, Anakin kept moving, trying to keep the man attacking him in the others' line of fire. 

With another chilling cry, the Mandalore swung the pike toward Anakin's head. Anakin threw his saber up to parry, and the pike crashed into the hilt, shattering it. Anakin fell to the floor and rolled, just dodging another blow. He leaped to his feet, but took a brutal crack to his ribs as the soldier spun back toward him. The soldier whirled again, taking Anakin's legs from under him. Anakin hit the floor hard, landing on his injured arm. 

Anakin desperately reached to the Force, trying to ease his pain and mount some sort of defense. He managed to grab hold of some of Watto's junk and send it flying toward the man, but the oppressive buzzing in his head prevented the concentration necessary to lift the bigger objects. He staggered to his feet and heard the Force scream a warning at him. He dodged to one side, but not in time to keep a stun bolt from grazing him. His left leg buckled under him. The big Mandalore stood over him, crowing triumphantly. 

Anakin watched him warily. He was obviously a leader of some sort – his armor bore four wide gold stripes on the arms. 

"So, boy, you are the Chosen One?" the man asked, his gravelly voice dripping contempt. "It seems we have little to fear from Jedi prophecies. The Chosen One couldn't even protect his own mother! How will he ever save the galaxy?" 

Anakin's rage flared, pushing away the pressure in his Force-sense. Power converters, batteries, and engine parts assailed the Mandalorian from all sides of the junk shop. The man twisted and dodged, ducking some of the missiles and knocking others away with his pike. But he couldn't get them all. A large power converter caught him in the back, knocking him down. The other soldiers trained their weapons on Anakin. 

An explosion outside shook the ground, throwing them off-balance. Sunlight poured through the now-cleared doorway. Blaster fire sizzled through the shop, dropping the soldiers where they stood. Anakin didn't wait around – he half-crawled, half-vaulted through the back door into the junkyard. The Mandalore leader barked into his comlink as he fought his way from under the power converter. 

The muzzle of a blaster rifle poked through the front doorway. Padmé peered into the shop just in time to see Anakin lurch out the back door. A large Mandalore with a fierce-looking pike stumbled after him. 

"Sabé! The roof! Cover the back of the shop!" Padmé called to her handmaiden, who was scanning the street for more soldiers. A squad of them already lay dead, victims of one of Sabé's thermal detonators. 

Sabé nodded and scrambled nimbly up onto the roof of the neighboring shop, finding easy handholds and footholds in the pockmarked stone. She threw herself flat on the roof beside a cooling unit and scanned the junkyard. She saw Anakin scuttling across the yard, leaning heavily on the equipment and dragging his left leg. He fell down, out of sight. 

Sabé swore under her breath as another squad of Mandalore soldiers appeared on the far side of the junkyard. _Where are these guys coming from?_ She didn't want to risk a thermal detonator, not with Anakin exposed. She jerked her rifle up and snugged it to her shoulder, sighting down the barrel. She fired as quickly as she could line up her shots, taking out five of them before the rest found cover. 

Padmé cut quickly through the shop, stepping over dead soldiers and scattered junk. Her eyes traveled carefully over the yard. No sign of Anakin. She saw Sabé take out part of the Mandalore squad. Circling around the junk, she flushed the remainder from their cover. Four quick shots from Sabé finished them off. 

But the one with the pike was still out here somewhere. Padmé wanted him alive. She would take him back to Coruscant and haul him in front of the Senate. Maybe that would light a fire under them. She pulled out her comlink. 

"Sabé." 

"Yes?" 

"There's another one out here somewhere. He's carrying a pike of some kind. I want him alive. Stay on the roof. If you see him, stun him." 

"Got it."   
  
  
  


Boba Fett crouched low amid the load lifters, engine parts, and other junk that littered the yard. He cursed Darth Nemesis for pulling away all but one platoon of his soldiers. The Sith had told him that the boy would be alone. All Fett had to do was kill the woman and take the boy to Lord Sidious. No one had told him the boy would show up with his own well-armed force. 

Fett knew the boy was a Jedi Padawan. He was supposedly the Chosen One of Jedi lore, a powerful Force-wielder who would bring balance to the mystical energy. What Fett had seen was a scared young man who had just lost his mother. But the boy had defended himself well, and Fett was impressed. He had fought and killed Jedi Knights and Masters, and many had not lasted as long as this Padawan. But he couldn't simultaneously fight the boy and defend himself against whatever fighters had come with him. Not when Fett's own troops already lay dead. He needed to escape. There would be another day.   
  
  
  


Padmé found the large Mandalore standing over Anakin's prone form. Raising her blaster, she commanded, "Step away from him." 

He swiveled his helmeted head toward her. Straightening up, he held his pike away from his body and gestured toward Anakin. "You're a little late, girly," he laughed. His voice sounded like rocks grinding together. "I'm afraid he's done." 

Padmé's breath caught in her throat and she looked anxiously at Anakin. The small lapse was all Fett needed. "Stupid female," he sneered as his pike swept up, neatly slicing through the barrel of her rifle. He spun around, catching her hard across the shoulder blades with the handle and knocking her into the dirt. Padmé rolled to her knees and jerked her pistol from its holster, but he was already gone. Sabé's belated shot crackled uselessly against the back steps of the shop. 

Padmé ran to Anakin's side and rolled him over on his back. He was conscious, but barely so. "Padmé," he croaked. "What are you doing here?" 

She stared in horror at his blood-soaked sleeve. "Ani, you're hurt!" 

"Don't feel a thing," he mumbled. Padmé pulled her vibroknife from her boot and cut away the sleeves of his cloak and tunic. He stared wide-eyed at the deep gash in his upper arm. It was still oozing blood. "Ooh, that's gonna leave a mark." 

"Hush, Ani." Padmé cut several strips from the bottom of her cloak and wrapped the wound tightly, then bound the arm to his body. He needed a bacta pack, but the makeshift bandage would hold for a bit, if he stopped bleeding. How could he not feel a cut that deep? 

"Stun bolt…caught my arm," he said, picking up on her thoughts. "Padmé…those soldiers…something wrong with them. In the Force…" His head lolled back in the dirt. 

_He's lost a lot of blood_. She needed to get him in out of the sun, then send Sabé to the shuttle for the medical kit. 

"Padmé!" Sabé called from the back door of the shop. "I think you need to look at this!" 

"Come help me with Anakin!" she called back. "He's hurt!" She slipped an arm under Anakin's shoulders. "Ani, can you stand up? We need to get you out of the sun." 

Sabé appeared next to her. Padmé glanced up at her. "Is Shmi in there?" 

Sabé looked grim. "I think you need to see what's in there." 

"MOM!" Anakin lurched up, trying to stand. 

"Hang on, Ani. Let us help." The two women hauled him to his feet, the same thought crossing their minds: _Gods, he's heavy!_ Anakin swayed, leaning heavily on their shoulders as they half-dragged him into the junk shop. 

Padmé saw Shmi Skywalker's limp body on the workbench and gasped. _Oh, no!_ She tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. One look at Anakin's anguished face told her it was too late. She exchanged worried glances with Sabé as Anakin pushed off them and sank down beside the bench, grasping his mother's hand. Padmé touched Anakin's shoulder, but he did not acknowledge her. She pulled her cloak off and draped it over Shmi's body, covering her burned torso and exposed skin. 

"Padmé." Sabé jerked her head toward the dead Mandalore soldiers. She had removed the helmets from several of them. Padmé stepped over to look at them, then froze, her blood chilling in her veins. 

They were all identical. 

Clones. 

Padmé closed her eyes. _Damn, I hate it when I'm right_. She and Sabé moved through the shop, removing the helmets from the rest of the Mandalores. The same dark hair, even features, and sightless dark eyes lay under each faceplate. _I need to contact Bail. But I'm not equipped to do that from here_. 

Just then, two people burst into the shop, interrupting her thoughts. Padmé and Sabé whipped around, immediately training their pistols on the newcomers. A man and a woman, moisture farmers from the looks of them, stared in shock at the chaos. The woman spotted Shmi's body and let out a sharp cry. "Oh, no! Shmi!" She darted to Shmi's side, tears running down her cheeks as she knelt next to Anakin. The man followed her, staring in angry disbelief, first at Shmi, then at Anakin, Padmé, and Sabé. Padmé holstered her weapon, then gestured at Sabé to do the same. The bodyguard did so reluctantly, her eyes never leaving the man. 

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded harshly. He was a stocky man with a powerful build and large, callused hands. He had dark hair and washed-out blue eyes that glinted with sorrow. Padmé thought that he might be about her age, but years of hard work and Tatooine's harsh suns had taken a toll on him. 

Anakin, suddenly much more alert, struggled to his feet and stood protectively over his mother. "I'm Anakin Skywalker. Who are you?" 

Anger replaced the sadness in the man's eyes. "So," he sneered, "the prodigal son finally returns."   
  



	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 Chapter 10   


Obi-Wan walked slowly through the square and studied his surroundings. This was the only area of any of the settlements on Sessone that had survived the devastation of the Mandalore attack. The central fountain remained mostly intact. Small gazebos and stone benches were scattered throughout groupings of trees, forming small natural gathering places for the villagers. The Alderaanian architectural obsession with natural form and complementing the surroundings shone through, despite the damage. Even on their mining colonies, the Alderaanians insisted on combining beauty with functionality. 

Obi-Wan cleared his mind and opened himself to the Force. A physical object from the assault would help, but there were none available. He focused on his mental images of the only clues he had – the Mandalore armor and the biological analyzer. Closing his eyes, he brushed his fingers across trees, stone, and grass as his pace slowed to a crawl. 

The Force flowed, pulling him along as the images swept by. Naboo soldiers searching the village for survivors. A young boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old, huddled next to the fountain, clutching a rifle. The scream of fighters strafing the buildings. Blood spilled in the grass…. 

Obi-Wan stiffened as a deep, chilling cold seeped into him. _Sith_…The aura was there, unmistakable, the same cloud of hatred and madness that had surrounded the horned man so long ago. 

He found himself back in the power core of the Theed hangar, watching the fight through the hazy red of the laser curtains. Pacing the enclosure like a caged animal, his heart hammering against his chest as Qui-Gon and the Sith faced off. Reliving the agony as the creature's blood-red saber speared his Master's body. His rage as he attacked, bent on avenging Qui-Gon's death. Fear as he hung in the melting pit, the small ledge biting cruelly into his fingers. The flow of the Force, marred only by the dark flicker of satisfaction as the Sith's body fell into the pit. Despair as his Master slipped away. 

Obi-Wan jerked back to the present. He raised his fingers to his face, feeling the tears there_. Loss of focus_, he chided himself_._ He hadn't relived those moments so vividly in years, though the ache of Qui-Gon's death had never fully subsided. The first few years, he thought he might go mad with the anguish and his inability to let it go. Only the need to be there for Anakin, to carry out his master's dying request, had kept him sane. 

Sighing, Obi-Wan wiped the moisture from his cheeks and looked around. He was kneeling in the grass about ten meters from the fountain. The Sith had been here. Was there something important about this particular village, or had it been a random choice? What had transpired here? He closed his eyes again, his hands spread on the grass, searching. 

_ They watched as the soldier took a wicked-looking knife from his belt and advanced on the prisoners. One young man leaped on the soldier, cursing as he tried to pry the knife away. He received a rifle butt to the back of his head for his trouble. When the man was subdued, the soldier cut a gash in his arm and dabbed blood onto an analysis chip. He repeated the process with the other villagers, four young men and a teen-aged girl._

Obi-Wan drifted back to the present. They had taken samples here, in a repeat of the actions he had seen in the Queen's holo-recording. Were they taking people for cloning? Why take civilians if an army was the desired result? 

_ The mines_, he realized. If the Sith and their Mandalore allies wanted the mines, they would have to staff them. The villagers would be unreliable, but their clones might not be, depending on how much memory they retained. Obi-Wan gathered himself and headed for the shuttle. 

Lieutenant Elluis had his men spread out in a security perimeter. They were quietly alert, nodding to Obi-Wan as he passed. He found Tarkin sitting on a log, his gaunt form hunched over a datapad. 

"Major Tarkin." 

"Jedi Kenobi." Tarkin looked up. "You've found something?" Curiosity. 

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan replied. Tarkin's mood shifted. Obi-Wan frowned. The man was suddenly apprehensive. "We need to go to the mines. And I must contact the Jedi Council." 

"May I ask why?" 

Obi-Wan's frown deepened. Tarkin's emotions roiled in an odd mixture of anxiety, anticipation, and…satisfaction? Did he already know something? The major definitely bore closer scrutiny. "Major, this whole attack makes no sense unless it is considered in the context of the crystal mines. They are the most important resource on this colony. An army bent on attacking the Republic would make good use of them. But they have to be manned. So why slaughter the workers?" 

"Please do not lecture me, Jedi Kenobi. I am well aware of the value of the mines." Tarkin unfolded his long frame and stood up, reminding Obi-Wan, eerily, of a Trade Federation battle droid. "I merely want to point out the lateness of the day. Your…examination …took quite a long time." 

Obi-Wan looked up and realized that the sun had moved completely across the sky. _All day_, he thought. _Anakin probably would have finished by lunchtime_. "The hour matters little, Major. I will do what must be done. If you do not wish to accompany me, you may drop me off and return to the ship. I will call when I am finished." 

Tarkin peered down his nose at the Jedi. "Of course we will accompany you, Jedi Kenobi. The Supreme Chancellor will want my report to include all of the information we uncover." He raised his voice. "Lieutenant Elluis!" 

The Scout lieutenant trotted up. A tough-looking young man with a compact build, dirty blond hair and alert green eyes, Elluis carried himself with quiet competence. "Yes, sir?" His gaze and tone skirted the edge of insolence. 

Obi-Wan hid a smile. Elluis could not quite mask his contempt for Tarkin, whom he considered a desk jockey rather than a real soldier. Tarkin was either oblivious to the lieutenant's opinion, or considered it of little consequence. 

"Gather your men," Tarkin instructed. "We are going to pay a visit to the crystal mines." 

"All of them, sir, or did you have a particular one in mind?" 

Tarkin threw a questioning glance at Obi-Wan. 

"I believe that the main administrative offices are co-located with the largest excavation," Obi-Wan answered. "We will go there." 

Elluis gave him a curt nod. "Yes, sir." He turned and strode back toward his men, pumping his fist in a "rally on me" gesture. His failure to acknowledge Tarkin was not lost on either of the older men. 

Tarkin met Obi-Wan's eyes. The major's gaze held contemptuous amusement, but anger simmered behind it. Obi-Wan resolved to speak to Elluis about controlling his feelings. Otherwise, this mission could well mark the end of the lieutenant's military career.   


********** 

  


Padmé wiped her hands on the towel and hung it by the sink, then handed the neatly stacked dishes to Beru. Dinner had not been a rousing success, though Padmé appreciated Beru's efforts. Anakin had not joined them at all, storming off after an argument with Owen, and the rest of them had just pushed the food around on their plates. 

Owen and Beru Lars owned a moisture farm on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, near the settlement of Anchorhead. Owen Lars was a stoic, no-nonsense man whose gruff edginess and perpetual frown couldn't have contrasted more with his wife's quick smile and sunny outlook on life. Padmé thought them an odd pairing at first, but then realized that they complemented each other well. 

Padmé and Anakin had ridden from Mos Espa with Owen and Beru, while Sabé flew the shuttle. Padmé had coaxed their story from them during the speeder trip. Not long after Anakin left with Qui-Gon, Owen Lars had been orphaned when one of Gardulla's enforcers had killed his parents over their failure to pay a debt. His mother had pushed him out the back door of their home and told him to run. Shmi Skywalker had come across him when he was fleeing the slavers and had hidden him in her home. He had stayed there off and on for several years, while he worked odd jobs and saved his money. When he and Beru got married, Shmi had given them enough money to start a moisture farm, and smuggled parts and equipment from Watto's shop to help them get it going. Shmi never told him where the money came from, but Owen said he thought she had had it for a long time and had never figured out what to do with it. 

Padmé and Anakin had exchanged glances at that. They were both sure that the money had come from the sale of Anakin's Boonta Eve pod racer. Shmi would not have spent the money on herself, and she would certainly not have told Watto about it. 

Owen and Anakin disliked each other immediately and intensely. Anakin's eyes burned with jealousy as Owen talked about Shmi's kindness, how she had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go, how she had been like a second mother to him. Owen had enjoyed moments with Shmi that should rightfully have been his. A voice in the back of his mind told him that he was being irrational, that he should be proud of his mother's compassion, but the envy still smoldered. 

In Owen's view, Anakin was an ungrateful brat who had abandoned his mother to slavery to jaunt about the galaxy with the Jedi. He couldn't fathom that Anakin had not contacted his mother, not even once, in the ten years that he had been gone. Shmi had been very proud of Anakin and talked about him often, but Owen felt that Anakin was unworthy of Shmi. Although Shmi was confident that her son would return to free her, Owen's practical nature did not lend itself to trust in the Jedi. As far as he was concerned, they were just a bunch of crazy wizards who claimed to draw power from some non-existent energy field. 

So Owen had scrimped and saved, trying to accumulate enough money to buy Shmi from Watto. But every time he approached the Toydarian, Watto would either raise the price or simply tell him that Shmi was not for sale. 

Padmé privately agreed with Owen's assertion that Watto's primary reasons for keeping Shmi were vengeful, to give him some kind of leverage over Anakin. She had sensed that herself during her unsuccessful attempts to purchase Shmi's freedom. The old Toydarian was certain Anakin would return for her, and he wanted to have as much control over that situation as possible. 

Padmé pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and sighed. They had cremated Shmi's body soon after arriving at the Lars farm, with Padmé conducting a simple Naboo funeral rite. Anakin and Owen had put aside their differences long enough to scatter her ashes over the Wastes and set up a small marker at the edge of the property. 

But the arguing had resumed almost as soon as they had returned, and Anakin had stormed off. Owen had sat through part of dinner, then stalked off to work in the garage. Sabé had rolled her eyes at both of them, hinting that if the men didn't settle their hash soon, she would settle it for them. With her Gungan electropole. Then she left to check on the shuttle, leaving Padmé to help Beru clean up. 

"Beru, if you don't need me anymore, I'm going to go look for Anakin," Padmé said. "I don't want him doing anything foolish." 

"Go ahead, I'm just about done here, anyway," Beru replied with a smile. "Then I will look for Owen, for the same reason."   
  


Anakin sat in the dirt watching the suns drop toward the horizon, his back against the low wall that encircled the Lars homestead. His fingers traced random patterns in the sand, pausing occasionally to bunch up in tight fists before relaxing and starting again. 

Where had he gone so wrong? All of his life, he had listened to the strange whisperings of the world around him, guiding him, showing him where to go and what to do, giving him his sense of the _rightness_ of things. These mysterious insights had helped him cope with life, first as a slave, then as a Jedi, and he had unerringly followed them. The Force spoke to him in a unique way, Obi-Wan had told him, far differently from the way it spoke to others. Anakin had taken this on faith, and listened to his instincts. 

Except in this one matter. Obi-Wan and the Council had been insistent – he could not even see his mother, much less contemplate freeing her, until he was ready. Ready in their eyes, not his own. His emotions and fears for her had to be conquered, they said, and that could only be accomplished from within, not imposed from without. He had accepted that, reluctantly, as he was sure that the Force would let him know when she needed him. But in that little place deep inside where he hid things even from himself, a tiny spark of fear lived. Fear that he couldn't keep his promise, that he wouldn't prove worthy, that all the pain and separation would be for naught. 

Anakin leaned his head back against wall. Over the past few years, the little spark of fear had grown brighter as the disturbing visions grew more vivid, and the Force whispered to him that it was time. He had continually pressed Obi-Wan and the Council to let him return to Tatooine, just to check on her and make sure she was all right. But he couldn't hide the fear from them, no matter how hard he tried, and the answer was always the same: "Not ready are you." 

So he had squashed his instincts. _And look at what it led to_. His mother dying in his arms, never having experienced a day of freedom with her son. Her son now an angry, fearful failure, watching as his dreams slid away, one by one.   
  


He felt Padmé's presence before she actually appeared. A warm glow that shimmered in the Force, it always made his heart beat a little faster. It had the same effect on him now, despite his grief, but he didn't look at her as she knelt beside him in the sand. She took his hand. 

"Ani, I'm so sorry." She gently stroked his knuckles. 

He didn't react for a long time. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "Did you know," he said slowly, his voice thick, "that I've kept every promise I ever made?" 

Padmé shook her head, still caressing his hand. 

"Every one," he repeated, "except for this one. I promised I would come back and free her. The most important promise I made in my whole life, and I couldn't keep it!" His voice broke. "The Chosen One, ha!" he went on bitterly. "The Chosen One couldn't even protect his own mother!" He could no longer hold it in. His chest heaved and the sobs escaped. His whole body shook under the onslaught of emotion. 

Padmé pulled him into her arms, tucking his head under her chin. He buried his face in her neck and let the tears flow, soaking her skin and tunic. His arms closed around her waist in a clutching, crushing hold, clinging to her like a lifeline. She rocked him and whispered soothingly in his ear, her fingers ruffling his hair. 

Padmé's heart ached as she tried to imagine how Anakin must feel, having watched his mother die in his arms…unable to do anything to save her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. _What an unbelievable nightmare_. She couldn't help a glimmer of anger at Obi-Wan and the Jedi. If only they had let him come sooner… 

She wasn't sure how long they sat there, but the suns were resting on the horizon when his sobs finally abated. Her middle hurt from his tight hold, and her legs were falling asleep_. _She shifted uncomfortably, moving from a kneeling to a sitting position. 

Anakin stopped crying, but did not loosen his grip on her. Instead, he slid down and nestled his head in her lap, his arms still around her waist. His ragged breathing soon smoothed out, and Padmé realized with some amusement that he had fallen asleep. _Well, he's probably completely exhausted. Fighting with that Mandalore, losing his mother, his injuries…no wonder_. 

She ran her hand over the bandage on his bare right arm. Beru had insisted on stitching up the wound, and Anakin had numbly agreed, sitting quietly while she did so, flinching only slightly. Padmé suspected that he also had some broken ribs, from the colorful bruise on his side and way he had jerked when Beru probed at it. 

She studied his face in the fading light. She could see shadows of the small boy she'd first met in this man's – _Man? Yes, he's a man_ – features. She brushed the tears from his cheeks, running her fingers over his rough beard stubble in wonder. It had been nothing but soft down when he had last visited Naboo. Padmé smiled fondly as she recalled the tall, impossibly skinny fifteen year-old with the cracking voice and the overly large hands and feet. 

He moved a bit, turning up toward her as he dozed. The last rays of daylight fell across the planes of his face, and Padmé caught her breath. He wasn't handsome - he was beautiful. _Like an angel_, she thought, the irony of that label not lost on her. She couldn't tear her eyes away. 

_ Am I falling for you, Anakin?_ She caressed his face, dusting her fingers over his brows, his cheeks, his lips, trying to memorize everything. Then, unable to help herself, she leaned down and gently touched her lips to his. 

She sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and pondering her jumbled emotions. She had always loved Anakin. He was a dear friend, almost like a younger brother. But the feelings he aroused in her lately were anything but sisterly and she wasn't sure she liked them. 

She was just starting to doze off when Sabé's amused voice broke the silence. "You know, I was wondering how long it would be before you let him sleep with you."   


Anakin jerked up, awakened by the combination of a woman's indignant shriek and the rude _thud_ of his head hitting the ground. He looked around in confusion to see Sabé sprinting across the sand, screaming with laughter, the irate Queen of Naboo hot on her heels.   
  



	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 NOTE: Thanks to princess-sari for the Nube language - it's in her Rabe diary. Read it [here][1] !   


Chapter 11   
  


"…and it appears that Queen Amidala's information is correct, Masters. Someone is indeed cloning soldiers." 

Obi-Wan Kenobi's life-size hologram stood in the center of the Jedi Council chamber. The twelve members of the Council leaned forward attentively. 

"And your evidence of this, Obi-Wan?" asked Yoda. 

"A vision I had in the village where the surviving boy was found prompted us to visit the mines. There were cloned Mandalore soldiers left to guard each excavation. These clones have an odd presence in the Force, Masters. It is not…complete, somehow. It is also very distracting, like a low-level buzzing or pressure in the mind." Obi-Wan shook his head, as if to clear it. "Unfortunately, we were forced to kill them all when they attacked us. They are not especially competent soldiers, but they could not be negotiated with. Major Tarkin placed several of the bodies in stasis for transport to Coruscant." 

"Have you made a report to the Supreme Chancellor's office?" asked Mace Windu. 

"No, Master. Major Tarkin's report included all relevant information, save one item." Obi-Wan looked grim. "During my survey of the village, I sensed the presence of the Sith." 

Startled glances flew around the room. Yoda nodded his head thoughtfully. "How know you this, Obi-Wan?" he asked gently. 

"He…she…it was there when the village was attacked. It was unmistakable, Masters. Not the same person, but the same aura of hatred and madness that I felt in the Naboo hangar ten years ago. Deep, bone-chilling cold." Obi-Wan's hologram looked at the Council members that were in range of the communications system. The skepticism he had come to know so well was rooted on most of the faces that he could see. 

"This is serious, indeed, Obi-Wan," said Mace. "We will discuss it here, and decide what resources to put towards this matter. Is there anything else you require?" 

"Yes, Master." The hologram turned slightly. "Master Gallia, I need information on the last known whereabouts of Professor Richtor Spaarti. Also, a listing of the largest Republic defense contracts using funds appropriated within the last five to eight years." 

"Looking for unexplained cost overruns, Obi-Wan?" Adi asked. 

"It _is_ the easiest place to hide large sums of money, Master," Obi-Wan replied with a slight smile. "And it happens so often that it's almost expected. Auditors are more likely to check projects that actually stay on budget, because it's so unusual." 

"All right, Obi-Wan, I'll have it ready for you by the time you get back," said Adi. "Two days?" 

"Yes. Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan looked around uncertainly. 

Yoda picked up on it first. "What troubles you, Obi-Wan?" 

"I was wondering if there was any news about Padawan Skywalker?" 

An uneasy silence followed. "No," Mace said finally. "No one has seen or heard from him. The assumption is that he is on Tatooine." He gave Obi-Wan a hard look. "We will discuss your sending the Naboo queen after him when you return. May the Force be with you." 

Obi-Wan bowed as the connection was terminated. 

The Council members looked at one another, disturbed. "So," Yoda started, "it begins again. With the Sith." 

Evan Piell leaned forward. "And yet again, Obi-Wan has no evidence of the actual existence of a Sith Lord," he said skeptically. 

"The ways of the Force do not always require physical evidence," said Ki-Adi Mundi. "Simply because one has never seen something is not grounds to deny that it exists." 

"I just find it hard to believe that out of almost ten thousand Jedi scattered across the galaxy, the only one who has encountered a Sith in the last millenium has been Obi-Wan Kenobi," said Master Piell acidly. "Not once, but twice!" 

" Master Qui-Gon Jinn also believed that the Sith had re-emerged," Mace pointed out. 

"Humph! Jinn also brought us the supposed Chosen One," snorted Yareal Poof. "Who is now doing Force-knows-what, not even close to living up the potential of his midi-chlorian count!" 

"Are you questioning the prophecy, Master Poof?" Mace asked, his voice chilly. 

"There are thousands of prophecies, most of which have never reached fulfillment," argued Poof, his head swaying atop his long neck to emphasize his point. "Anakin Skywalker may have an astronomical midi-chlorian count, but he is just another Padawan. And a lackadaisical and disrespectful one at that." 

Adi chuckled musically. "Yareal, you're not still upset over that "Separated at Birth" holo of you and the Coruscant Zoo's new jeraff, are you?" The rest of the Council hid smiles and stifled laughter. Many of them had been victims of Anakin's jokes at one time or another. 

"A Jedi requires the most serious mind," Poof intoned. 

Mace Windu cut them off. "The training of Anakin Skywalker is not the topic of concern at this time, though it will certainly need to be addressed soon. The issue at hand is the reappearance of the Mandalore clan and their alliance with the Sith." 

"And again I ask why, out of ten thousand Jedi, that Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are the only ones that have seen a Sith in the last thousand years," Piell said. 

"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn't exist," said Ki-Adi Mundi 

"And there are not so many of us anymore, Evan," Adi said softly. "Perhaps this is why."   


  


***************** 

  


Padmé sat in the pilot's chair and stared through the cockpit viewport at the barren rockiness of the Jundland Wastes. How could anyone live in such desolation? She suddenly missed Naboo terribly, longing for the comforting roar of the falls, the grassy, rolling hills of the Theed plains, and the sweet scents of the Palace gardens. She needed to walk by the River Solleu, letting its combination of power and grace work through her troubled thoughts. 

Anakin. She had talked little with him since the evening she comforted him. Despondent, he had sunken into his own little world. Even the discovery of his old protocol droid, C-3PO, in the storage closet in the garage had failed to lift him from his funk. He seemed to spend every waking minute with tools in hand, rising before sunup and sometimes not returning until dark, mostly avoiding contact with anyone. He tinkered with every machine on the homestead, including the shuttle. _It'll be the only one in Crazy Eddie's fleet that can make point-five past lightspeed_. 

Padmé did not like the distant, haunted look his eyes took on whenever he stopped tinkering long enough to think. 

And she did not like sifting through the mess that her emotions became in his presence. 

She pushed those thoughts away as she pondered the Mandalore attack on Mos Espa. It made no sense whatsoever, based on what she already knew about them. All of their previous attacks had been directed against worlds with usable resources. The raids were brutal and destructive, but they had a definable purpose – mineral colonies, food production centers, gas mines. Tatooine had no such resources to offer. 

And Mos Espa was the only place attacked. Mos Eisley, Anchorhead, Toche Station, and the other settlements were untouched. 

And why was Watto's little junk shop targeted? Why had that large soldier had appeared to be after Anakin specifically? 

And the clones… 

Sighing, Padmé punched her personal code into the rental shuttle's comm terminal. 

"Please don't bother with a connection trace," she dryly told the tiny holo of Captain Panaka that popped up almost immediately. "We're on Tatooine, we're all right, and if you come here, you can give your rank to Lieutenant Toola." 

"But—" Panaka protested. 

"No buts," Padmé said firmly. "I just wanted you to know that we're okay, so you can resume eating and sleeping, and stop spending the Treasury trying to find us." 

Panaka had the good grace to look sheepish. The Queen knew him too well. "Fine, have it your way." He was not being disrespectful, but he was not going to address Padmé as "Your Highness" over a non-secure channel. "May I ask what you're doing there?" 

She stared sadly out the viewport at the seemingly endless yellow sands. "The same thing I was doing last time I came here." 

Panaka nodded in understanding. "Is the merchandise still not for sale?" 

"The merchandise has been destroyed." She did not tell him about the Mandalore attack, knowing that he would disobey her and come after them if he knew. 

Panaka's mouth tightened and he lowered his eyes briefly. "Please extend my condolences to Anakin." He was fond of the young Jedi. 

"I will," Padmé promised. "How is everyone holding up?" 

"Fine, with the exception of one young lady who curses you under her breath in Nubé as she sits through endless meetings and tries to evade a certain dignitary." 

Padmé grinned. Yes, Rabé was probably very unhappy playing the Queen. With the exception of Yané, she was the one most bored by politics. And the windbags on Coruscant could put even the most incurable insomniacs to sleep. And Bail Organa was no doubt going out of his mind trying to figure out why Queen Amidala was all of sudden trying to avoid him. 

She sobered quickly. "We're leaving soon. Go ahead and take everyone home. I will make the Royal apologies wherever they are necessary. We will see you there." 

"All right." Panaka inclined his head a fraction. 

"Take care." Padmé cut the connection. She swiveled the chair to face Sabé, who stood in the back of the cockpit, munching on a piece of fruit. "I think Rabé is going to have a piece of us both when we get home. Panaka says she taken to swearing in Nubé." 

Sabé shrugged, unconcerned. "Now maybe she'll understand why I'm such a bitch all the time," she said acidly. 

"Oh, is that it?" Padmé joked. "And all this time, I thought that was your normal, charming personality!" She ducked, laughing, as the fruit Sabé had been eating sailed past her head. 

"So when are we leaving?" Sabé asked. 

"Tomorrow. I've been out of touch for over a week now. Gods only know what went on in Coruscant, and I need to talk to Bail Organa about these clones." She sat back and rubbed her temples. "Especially if the Senate continues to stall. Tatooine is too close to home for my liking. If they've come here, an attack on Naboo may not be too far behind." 

"What about Anakin?" 

"What about him?" 

Sabé rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Padmé! Are we taking him with us or not? After all, he's _only_ the reason we made this trip in the first place!" 

Padmé turned the chair away from her handmaiden. "We haven't talked about it." 

Sabé grabbed the seat and spun it back around. "You haven't talked about _anything_ with him," she said archly, leaning on the chair's arms and getting in her friend's face. "When were you planning on telling him about Bail Organa?" 

Padmé would not look at her. "There's nothing to tell." 

"Poodoo! The man's been openly courting you for six months!" Sabé straightened up, her finger jabbing the air as she spoke. "Something happened between you and Bail on that balcony at the Alderaan Legation. I don't what it was, but whatever it was, Anakin saw it, and it upset him enough that he stormed out of the reception." 

There was a long pause. "Bail asked me to marry him," Padmé said softly, intently studying the toes of her boots. 

"What?!" Sabé screeched. "What did you say?" 

"I told him I'd think about it." 

Sabé squatted in front of the chair and took Padmé's hand, then reached out and tipped her friend's chin up. "Padmé, I think you owe it to Anakin to at least tell him about Bail. You know how he feels about you." 

"It's just a crush," Padmé said stubbornly. 

"It's _not_ a crush. Anakin's not a little boy anymore." A glint of humor flashed in Sabé's eyes. "And don't tell me you haven't noticed. I've seen the way you look at him." 

"Well, he certainly _is_ attractive," Padmé admitted. She wasn't about to tell Sabé how often Anakin occupied her thoughts, how easily she became distracted from even menial things when he was around. She had caught herself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the sunlight fell across the angles of his face, the sureness of his hands as he worked, the raw intensity in his blue eyes. 

"Helloooo!" 

Sabé's knuckles rapping on her skull brought her out of her reverie. She blushed scarlet, embarrassed at being so obvious about her daydreaming. Sabé looked at her knowingly. "I think you find him more than just 'attractive.' Try 'drop-dead gorgeous.' It fits your goofy expression better." 

Padmé glared. Heedless of her Queen's ire, Sabé grinned and went on, "Or maybe 'heart-stoppingly sexy.' Or…" 

"Ahem." Padmé cleared her throat and glowered at her bodyguard. "Yes, you're right. I _do_ need to talk to him." 

Sabé pulled her to her feet. "Let's go, then. I told Beru I'd ride into Anchorhead with Owen. Seems he never gets the shopping done quite right." They headed for the shuttle's ramp. 

"Besides, you have to remember," Sabé pointed out, "Bail has spent at least part of his time courting _me_. And now he's after Rabé. The poor guy's never seen anyone but Queen Amidala. For all he knows, he could've asked some drag queen to marry him." 

Astonishment flashed across Padmé's face, and Sabé found herself sprawled facedown in the sand at the bottom of the ramp, choking out the tiny grains as she howled with laughter.   


  


*****************   


  


Anakin ignored the baking suns beating down on him as he pulled open the panel of the vaporator and studied the internal systems. Owen had said that this particular unit gave him endless trouble, despite repeated repair work. Anakin was sure that he could fix it.   


(I can fix anything)   


He had spent most of his time on the Lars farm working on one machine or another. It had driven Owen to distraction at first, until he realized that his equipment was running better than it had in years.   


(I believe you can)   


Anakin knew he was hiding, losing himself in the artificial to avoid dealing with what was real. But facing reality meant coming to terms with his failure, and he wasn't ready for that yet. The emotions were too raw to be soothed. So he buried them, throwing himself into the mechanical work. 

He ran a quick diagnostic on the compressor. It appeared to be in good working order, though the motor was running a little rough. He could tune that up later. 

_ Why didn't Obi-Wan come? _The question ate at him constantly. _He's my master – he's supposed to help me! Why did he leave me on my own?_ Even when he left the message, Anakin had been certain that Obi-Wan would come after him, would see how important this was, would help his Padawan keep his promises. The seeming abandonment by his master hurt almost as deeply as Shmi's death. _I thought he cared about me._

Anakin blinked back bitter tears as the memories flooded him - the denied requests to visit Tatooine, the refusals to allow even a brief message to his mother, or even to Watto, the way Obi-Wan and the Council had ignored his visions and rebuffed his demands to act on them. He could see them now, sitting in their circle in the tower, congratulating themselves on the their foresight about his feelings for his mother.   


(I sense much fear in you.)   


(Your thoughts dwell on your mother.)   


(Afraid to lose her, I think)   


He shook off his distress and returned his attention to the vaporator. The airflow across the coolant coil was not impeded in any way, and according to the moisturestat, the unit was pulling the requisite amount of water out, given the volume of air moving through it. So why wasn't the right amount of water being pumped to the crops? 

_ Why did Padmé come after me? How did she know?_ Gratitude and anger mixed oddly as he thought about the danger that Padmé had put herself in, pursuing him to Tatooine, doing Obi-Wan's job for him. And if he knew Padmé at all, she had probably objected to Sabé coming along; only the bodyguard's own formidable strength of will had gotten her on Padmé's shuttle_. If she had gotten hurt…_He pushed the thought away, unwilling to follow it. _But if Obi-Wan had done what he was supposed to do, Mom would still be alive!_   


(What good is it to have Jedi powers if we can't use them to help?)   


He activated the condensate pump, watching the water flow through the viewing pipe as the pump pushed it toward the crops. He checked the flow meter. Nope, not enough. Water was definitely being lost somewhere between the coolant coil and the pump. He poked around. No evident leaks around the pump. 

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat as he thought of the beautiful Queen of the Naboo, abandoning her duties in the midst of a crisis to chase after a Jedi Padawan and former slave. He would never have dared ask it of her, yet somehow she knew, and came anyway, showing a devotion that hurt his chest to think about_. Unlike some others_, he thought darkly. 

Prince Organa was a lucky man, to have the love of such an angel. 

Anakin drew a deep breath. Yet another dream slipping away.   


  


****************** 

Padmé crossed the south ridge with two cold drinks, struggling to hold both bottles in one hand while the other hand scratched and pulled at her clothing. She had forgotten how thoroughly the sand inundated everything here. _Including my underwear_, she thought with a grimace, tugging at her trousers. _Glad I left the gowns behind_. The Lars' house had an air filtration system that kept it relatively dust-free, but Padmé felt like she'd been buried to her neck in a child's sandbox whenever she went outside for more than a few minutes. 

She stopped about ten meters from the vaporator, her discomfort forgotten as she watched Anakin work. He was crouched in front of the open access door, his hands moving swiftly and surely, assorted tools leaping into his grasp when he called them. He wore a shirt borrowed from Owen, his Jedi tunic ruined by blood and Padmé's cutting the sleeve off. He had brought no other clothing with him in his haste to leave the Temple. Padmé smiled in amusement – Anakin was a good bit taller than Owen and the sleeves of the borrowed shirt stopped well above his wrists, the short hem exposing his body whenever he lifted his arms. 

The mynocks flapped around in her stomach again, as they always seemed to lately whenever Anakin was near. She stared at him, alternately enticed by the sporadic view of his muscled torso and distressed by the angry bruises that covered it. The Mandalore warrior had beaten Ani badly. Padmé suspected that he spent his nights in a Jedi healing trance. Otherwise, he would probably be unable to move. 

The shirt rose again, and Padmé gaped. She felt her cheeks heat up as she realized she was staring. _You came out here to bring him a drink and talk to him. So get moving!_

"Hi," she said, closing the distance. "I brought you something to drink. It's getting kind of hot out here." _The weather. I can't believe I'm talking about the weather!_

He looked up at her, shading his eyes, and smiled. "Thanks." He put the tools down and took the bottle she offered, his eyes lighting up when he saw what it was. "A ruby bliel! I haven't had one of these in ages!" His grin made him look nine years old again. "Where did you get them?" 

Padmé smiled at his enthusiasm, glad to see that he was at least a bit of his old self again. "Beru has a few stashed away." 

Anakin crawled around to the other side of the vaporator to sit in the shade. He took a long pull from the bottle and sighed in satisfaction. Then he squinted up at her. "Want to share my shade?" 

"Sure," she grinned. "Scooch over." She sat down shoulder to shoulder with him in the narrow spike of shade provided by the vaporator tower. 

"'Scooch?'" he repeated. "Is that a real word, or did you just make it up?" He smiled mischievously. 

"Hey," she said in mock indignation, "_I'm_ the Queen. It's a real word if I say it is, Jedi-Boy." She tugged his braid. 

"Yes, ma'am, Your Worshipfulness." He sketched a bow, and they laughed. 

They sat for a while in companionable silence, drinking their ruby bliels and gazing out across the desert. 

Finally, Anakin spoke. "You'll probably never believe this, but I actually kind of missed this place." He glanced at her. "I mean, I've lived in the Temple over half my life, but it just isn't the same for some reason." He smiled wryly and gestured at the barren landscape. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it?" 

Padmé shook her head as her yearning for the lushness of Naboo returned. "It doesn't sound crazy, Ani. Tatooine is home for you, as much as Naboo is for me. And I think you always want to return home, no matter where it is. This is where you began, and it played a large role in making you who you are today." She smiled. "And for that reason alone, I can't help but like it a little bit." 

Anakin managed a half-smile. "Coruscant always felt so…confining, I guess. Not like here, with the endless sky and open spaces. Of course, nothing is as freeing as space travel. The ultimate openness." His voice was edged with sadness. "I guess part of it is that I never really fit in at the Temple. Everyone else was raised there; the Jedi were the only family they ever knew. I don't think anyone ever really knew what to make of me." He fell silent, staring out across the sands, his eyes distant and unfocused. 

"You know," he said after a while, "the last time I sat and looked out across this desert, I was nine years old, with a huge crush on a handmaiden named Padmé, getting ready to pilot a pod in the biggest race of my life. And I knew, somehow, that day was going to change my life forever. I could feel my future rushing up on me." 

"And now," he continued, "we're sitting together, looking out over the Tatooine desert, and my life has changed again. My future is coming up on me again, Padmé. And I'm almost afraid of what it holds." 

Padmé slipped her small hand into his large one and almost jumped at the contact. They had held hands often before, but somehow this was different. The touch was tingly, almost electric. She looked down at their entwined hands, examining his strong fingers, the dirt and oil from the vaporator pressed into them. She shivered as his thumb drew light circles on her skin. Self-conscious, she glanced up into his blue eyes. _Mistake_, she thought. _I just fell in_. 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Padmé dropped her eyes. "Ani," she began, "we need to talk about the immediate future. I need –" 

Her voice went on, but Anakin didn't hear a word. He was too engrossed in the study of her face. His gaze took in her elegantly arched brows, the long lashes framing her beautiful brown eyes, the small, straight nose. A few dark curls had escaped her neat bun and fallen forward, brushing lightly around her cheeks. 

Then his eyes were drawn to her lips, his pulse quickening as he stared at them, fascinated by the way they shaped her words, pushing the sounds out to hang musically in the air. When the tip of her tongue darted out to wet them, he thought he might pass out. 

Unable to stand it any longer, he leaned over and kissed her. 

She stiffened in surprise. The kiss was forceful and clumsier than he intended, but it didn't matter. He felt kilometers above the ground. Then he felt her lips slowly relax under his as she tentatively returned his kiss, and his spirit soared anew. 

They broke apart and she stared at him, wide-eyed. 

Anakin blushed and dropped his gaze. "Um…uh…I'm sorry…uh…did you say something?" 

Padmé blinked. What had she been talking about? "Oh…um…" Flustered, she thought furiously. Oh, yes… "Ani, Sabé and I are leaving tomorrow. I need to return to Naboo. I've been gone too long and there's too much going on." 

She hesitated, then plunged on. "I don't know what plans you have, if any, but you know that you're more than welcome to come with us." She looked up at him, hope and apprehension mingling on her face. 

He was quiet for a moment, looking down at their still-clasped hands. "Well," he began, "Owen has been hinting around that he'd like me to stay here, help him out on the farm. Says his equipment is running better than when it was new." He smirked a bit, then sobered. "But I don't know…there are so many ghosts here…" He trailed off, then fell silent, his eyes far away. 

"Ani?" Padmé prodded. "Ani, what are you thinking?" 

He looked at her and smiled. "I'm thinking…" he hesitated, then reached out and gently pushed a stray lock behind her ear. "I'm thinking that I'd really like to kiss you again." He reddened slightly, but did not look away. 

She met his eyes. "So why don't you?" she asked softly. 

He kissed her again, much more tenderly this time. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, only knowing that it was long enough for him to circle her waist and pull her closer. Long enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. Long enough for them to melt into one another in the baking heat of the Tatooine midday. 

Long enough for him to murmur, "I love you," against her lips before kissing her yet again.   
  


   [1]: http://www.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=227528



	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 Chapter 12 

The Sith master's eyes narrowed dangerously as he observed the holo of the kneeling Boba Fett projecting from his comm terminal. The Mandalorian colonel had never before prostrated himself before Sidious. He must be reporting a serious failure indeed. 

"What is it, Colonel?" Sidious demanded. 

Fett's helmeted head lifted. "My Lord, the woman is dead, but I have failed to retrieve the boy Jedi as you ordered." The man's damaged voice did not quaver, but it lacked its usual arrogance. 

"Explain, Colonel," Sidious ordered. His voice was calm, but the underlying menace was unmistakable. "I would be very interested to hear how a mere Jedi Padawan escaped from the leader of the dreaded Mandalore warrior clan. Especially when he had a platoon of brand-new soldiers to help him." 

"I thought the boy would be alone! Your apprentice didn't bother to tell me that he would show up with an armed force of his own! The entire platoon was wiped out!" Fett was back on his feet. "I'm good – very good – but I cannot fight a Jedi and dodge blaster bolts at the same time!" 

Sidious was a bit taken aback by that piece of information. The boy had left Coruscant alone, hitching a ride on a barely space-worthy old freighter piloted by an equally old, mostly drunken smuggler. No Jedi would deign the use of mercenaries, and the boy would not be able to afford them anyway. That left legitimate soldiers or other Jedi. Kenobi was on Sessone. And no other Jedi would dare get involved in a slavery issue without the permission of the Senate. But was there actually a government out there foolish enough to risk Senate sanction to help free one insignificant woman? 

_ Yes, there might be_, Sidious thought with a flash of insight. "Describe these fighters for me, Colonel." 

"I actually saw only one of them, My Lord," said Fett. Sidious' anger mounted as the Mandalorian colonel described the one person that he had seen. "I overcame her easily, but I did not know where the rest of the force was located. I had no choice but to retreat." 

"Return to Concord Dawn and report to Lord Nemesis," Sidious ordered, resisting the urge to Force-choke the man. "I expect results, Colonel, not excuses. Do not fail me again." Fett bowed as the connection was terminated. 

The large sculpted stone paperweight on the Sith Lord's desk crumbled to dust under the weight of Sidious' wrath. _Idiot!_ he raged silently. Still, he couldn't afford to terminate Fett right now. He needed the overbearing colonel to ensure the loyalty of the Mandalore clan. But once he had his soldiers… 

And her…She had long been a thorn in his side. First the Trade Federation debacle, when he realized that he could not control her. Manipulate her, yes. Control her, no. And she was older and wiser now, as she proved when she discovered money from her Treasury being siphoned off through a defense contract. And now this. Why couldn't the blasted woman pay mind to her own affairs? He quickly calmed himself. Losing his temper would serve no useful purpose at this time.   
  
Had she actually had the audacity to go to Tatooine herself? That would explain the difference he sensed in the woman sitting next to him in those endless committee meetings. He curled his lip in disgust – the decoy bit was so transparent. And most Senate committees had given up any pretense of purpose. The members blew hot air past one another, spent enormous amounts of money, and then whipped up more hot air. It sickened him. 

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his long fingers thoughtfully. He knew she was close to the boy, had been ever since the Trade Federation fiasco. Perhaps they were closer than he realized. There had to be some way that he could turn this to his advantage. 

He needed the boy for his plans to succeed. The Jedi Temple shined with the bright lights of the Force, but none that blazed so brightly as Anakin Skywalker. The legend of the Chosen One was not just a Jedi prophecy, but a Sith one as well. Sidious smirked. The achievement of Balance depended largely upon which side of the scale events were viewed from. 

He thought back to his previous apprentice. Darth Maul had been a lethal, efficient machine, perfect for killing Jedi and wielding his master's iron fist, but lacked the subtlety for other, equally important endeavors. Darth Nemesis was promising – not quite as skilled a warrior as Maul, but far superior in other areas. He wondered how young Skywalker would stack up, when the time came. 

His chief aide's voice interrupted his musings. "Sir, Senator Talador is here to see you." 

"Thank you, Sei," he answered, his voice pleasant. "Give me two minutes, please." 

Sidious carefully raked the remains of the paperweight into his wastebasket and wiped the desktop with a handkerchief. After all, it would not do for the fastidious Chancellor to have such a mess in his office.   


***************** 

Padmé gave the spanner one last twist, then sat back and looked at her work with satisfaction. _Anakin's not the only one around here who can turn wrenches_. "There you are, Threepio. I'm sorry they're not as shiny as the ones for a standard protocol droid. But you're not quite so naked anymore." 

"Thank you so much, Mistress Padmé." Threepio's prissy voice rang with pride as he looked at his new coverings. "I feel so much more like a proper protocol droid now." 

"I've always thought you were perfect, Threepio." Padmé grinned as she rummaged through the toolbox. They were in the Lars' garage, sitting beside the oil pit used for lubricating parts and machinery. "Even when you were less then fully clothed." 

"Not to sound ungrateful, Mistress Padmé," the droid said with what might have been a sigh, "but I would be a bit more comfortable if I were completely covered." He indicated his left leg, which still had exposed wiring and servomotors. 

Padmé suppressed a smile, amused at this aspect of the droid's psuedoemotive programming. "I'm sorry, Threepio. Owen couldn't spare any more material. Maybe he can trade for some with the Jawas when they come through again." 

"Perhaps. But if I may say so, Mistress Padmé, I don't think Master Owen likes me very much. He keeps me deactivated in the storage area much of the time, which I don't understand because I could be of great help around a moisture farm. After all, I _am_ fluent in over two million forms of communication, and my language database will only expand if I am allowed to exercise my translation and linguistic decoding functions. Furthermore…" 

Padmé sighed inwardly. _Owen keeps you shut down because you won't shut up_. She listened with half an ear as she covered her eyes with the goggles she had fished out of the toolbox, then applied a tiny arc welder to the joint of the droid's right knee. Threepio prattled on about his usefulness in programming load lifters and communicating with various types of farm equipment. 

Padmé finished the welding, then tossed the goggles back into the toolbox. "Threepio," she interrupted smoothly, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to shut you down temporarily. I want to update your programming." 

"Of course, Mistress Padmé," Threepio replied, a bit wistfully. "I must say, though, that I have enjoyed talking with you." 

She smiled. "Don't worry, Threepio. We'll talk again." She reached up and deactivated the droid, then exhaled in relief at the sudden silence. She wondered what had possessed the young Anakin to make his droid such a chatterbox. Reaching back into the toolbox, she came out with a long-handled programming bar and inserted it into the notch in Threepio's neck. She twisted several times, watching the indicator lights until she had the setting she wanted. Then she spoke softly into the voice pickup, using the lyrical Nubé language. When she finished, she locked it in and withdrew the bar, tossing it back into the toolbox. 

Padmé drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. Now she understood why Anakin threw himself into mechanical work when he was troubled. Concentrating on the intricate machinery left little room for stray thoughts. _Like ones about a certain Jedi Padawan who makes it difficult to consider anything rational whenever he's around._

Her heart thumped a little harder at the memory of Anakin's kiss, the way she had drawn herself into it until nothing existed but the gentle movements of his mouth, the strength of his arms, and the heat of his body. She had wanted to press herself even closer to him, to occupy as much of his space she possibly could. So why did that bother her? After all, hadn't she fantasized - several times - about him kissing her since she had seen him again on Coruscant? 

If only he had not said those words…_It would have been so much easier if he had just kissed me_. 

The one thing for certain: she could no longer dismiss Anakin's feelings as a boyish crush. _Then why are you trying to? For his sake – or yours?_

Sabé was right – Ani deserved to know about Bail Organa, although Padmé was even less certain about the Viceroy of Alderaan than ever before. Queen Amidala had many suitors, but Bail was the only one Padmé had ever taken even a bit seriously. And when she searched her heart, she could honestly say that she had great affection for Bail, but she did not love him. Not that way. 

Unfortunately, love could not always be the overriding consideration. 

_ Love? It couldn't possibly be that. Not that way. Not this soon._

Padmé blew a strand of hair from her face and reached for Threepio's activation switch. 

"You know, he drives Owen nuts." Beru's voice came from the doorway of the garage. "That's why he stays shut down so much." 

Padmé turned to smile at her. "I thought as much. I guess I shouldn't really be surprised – Ani can be quite a chatterbox himself sometimes. You know he built Threepio when he was nine years old?" 

Beru nodded as she crossed the room to sit on the floor beside Padmé. "Shmi told us about that when she gave him to Owen. She was afraid Watto would take him, and she didn't want to give up anything that had belonged to Anakin." She laughed. "I think that was the only time Owen ever got angry with Shmi. He was convinced that Threepio drove her nuts and she was trying to politely get rid of him." 

"Why did Shmi think Watto would take Threepio?" Padmé asked. "Ani said he deliberately kept him looking like a piece of junk so that Watto wouldn't be interested." 

Beru pushed her blond hair back from her face. She was a young woman, about Padmé's age, pretty, but Tatooine's harsh environment was already taking a toll on her, adding lines around her dancing blue eyes that shouldn't have been there yet. "I think Watto was paranoid about Anakin coming back to get Shmi. Somehow he knew that the man who took Anakin was a Jedi. He poked around Shmi's house all the time. He almost caught Owen hiding there a couple of times." 

Padmé turned that thought over in her head several times. Watto might have been greedy, but he wasn't stupid. Given the events of the past few days, Padmé almost regretted not killing the Toydarian when she had the chance. 

"Padmé," Beru said, her blue eyes suddenly serious, "who was Anakin's father?" 

The abrupt question caught Padmé off-guard. She'd heard some of the Jedi speculation about Anakin's origins, but nothing that she could really believe. 'The Chosen One,' she'd heard him called, but she didn't know what that meant. Obi-Wan was notoriously tight-lipped on the subject, saying only that Anakin was very special. Anakin himself did not seem to be overly concerned about it. But something told her that this was not information to be shared; the knowledge could endanger whoever held it. "I don't know, Beru," she said carefully. "Ani never talks about any parent but his mother. Why do you ask?" 

"Curiosity, mostly. Shmi was very proud of her son, but that was one thing she would never discuss. There was a lot of speculation in Mos Espa that the Jedi who took Anakin away was the father. But I don't think that was the case." She gave Padmé a sidelong glance. "You and Anakin seem very close. I thought he might have told you." 

"We've never discussed it. All I can say is that there is more to Anakin than meets the eye." 

"There's more to you than meets the eye, too, Padmé Naberrie," Beru said. 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Padmé asked, "What do you mean?" 

Beru gave her a brilliant smile. "Owen and I may be simple moisture farmers, but you don't survive long out here without being observant. Despite your rough clothing, your carriage is confident and your voice is cultured. You seem very self-possessed for one your age. Despite your skill with tools," - she touched one of Padmé's hands - "your hands are not those of one who does manual work." 

Padmé said nothing, her face expressionless. Beru went on, "You and Sabé look enough alike to be sisters, yet she seems to be more of a protector. A bodyguard, maybe. Her eyes are so alert, and they miss nothing. I haven't seen her sleep yet. And her hands never stray too far from that blaster she carries. I was really surprised when she agreed to go to Anchorhead with Owen." 

"All of that," she continued, "tells me that you are more than what you seem. You're a person of some importance elsewhere." Taking in Padmé's stony expression, she finished, "But you're not here in that role. You're here for Anakin." 

"Besides," Beru said, "Owen says that he has seen you before." That earned her a raised eyebrow from Padmé. "It drove him to distraction until he remembered where. You visited Shmi about five years ago. Owen was in the house. You were trying to buy her freedom, weren't you?" Padmé nodded. "You must love Anakin very much." 

Padmé gave her a startled look. "Yes, I do," she said. "I've known him since he left here for the Temple. He's like a brother to me." 

Beru laughed. "That's hardly the way I'd describe it. Not unless you kiss all your brothers that way." 

Padmé blushed crimson. _She's as bad as Sabé_, she thought. Her heart skipped as she recalled Anakin's kisses and her cheeks reddened even further, much to her chagrin. Trying to change the subject, she said, "Owen and Anakin seem to be getting along better. Either that or they've agreed to a cease-fire." 

Beru laughed again. "Owen is so practical, Maker love him. He'd embrace the devil himself if it meant getting that vaporator fixed." 

************** 

Anakin continued working on the vaporator. He'd finally isolated the problem – an almost microscopic coolant leak that was allowing the air to be reheated as it passed over through the condenser coil. As the air reheated, it gave its water back up to the atmosphere. He would have to take the vaporator offline to repair it. 

As he shut down the compressor and pumps, he replayed his kisses with Padmé over and over again, his head swimming as he recalled all the tiny details - the silky softness of her lips, the taste of her breath, the sweet clean scent of her skin. Kissing her had been an impulse, one he could not control. Not with her sitting so close to him. He had surprised her, but she hadn't withdrawn or pushed him away. She had responded to him, much to his delight, a little shyly at first, but eagerly the second time. 

But when he actually said the words, she had fled, her thoughts muddled in uncertainty and doubt. He knew she was attracted to him; he could sense it strongly among the other emotions that hovered on the surface of her mind. Attraction, confusion, affection, desire, and a faint undercurrent of fear. What was she afraid of? Him – or herself? 

He reached out for her, seeking her presence. She was in the garage with…Beru. He smiled as he recognized the other woman's gentle light in the Force. His brow furrowed. What were they talking about? From Beru, he sensed curiosity and amusement. From Padmé, there was wariness and…embarrassment? Were they talking about him? 

He was so focused on the two women that he almost missed Owen's approach. He turned to see the moisture farmer walking toward him, wearing his habitual scowl. As usual, Owen's clothing was dusty and sweat-soaked, and his chin looked as if it had not seen a razor in several days. He stopped next to Anakin, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"You figure out what's wrong with it?" Owen asked in his gruff voice. 

"Yeah," Anakin replied. "It's got a coolant leak in the condenser coil. Air's getting heated back up when it goes over the coil, and the water's evaporating back out." 

Owen frowned. "Coolant leak? I didn't find any leak when I checked it." 

"It's pretty small, not one that will show up on a standard leak test." Anakin held his hand out, and a small wrench leaped out of the toolbox and into his grasp. "And it's on the condenser coil, not the vaporator coolant coil." He quickly disconnected the pumps and compressor from the power supply. He let go of the wrench. It floated back to the toolbox. 

Owen looked uncomfortable. "If it's too small for a standard test, how did you find it?" 

"The Force," Anakin said shortly. He sealed off the ends of the condenser coil, then called a pipe wrench to his hand. He disconnected the coil and lifted it out of the vaporator, setting it on the ground next to him. A small arc welder and a pair of goggles lifted out of the toolbox and hovered near him. 

Owen shifted his feet, unnerved. "Damn it, could you please not do that?" 

"Do what?" Anakin asked innocently. 

"That!" Owen waved his hand at the floating objects. Anakin's odd power disturbed him. It was something he couldn't see, hear, touch, taste or smell, and that normally meant that he would dismiss it as nonsense. But he could not ignore what was happening right in front of his face. 

Anakin smothered a grin as he plucked the tools from the air. He didn't ordinarily use the Force in any way when he did mechanical work, but Owen's comments about the Jedi being crazy wizards had gotten under his skin. So he had taken to using the Force for even the simplest tasks when Owen was around, just because he knew how much it unsettled the farmer. Owen didn't like anything that he couldn't explain. 

Owen paced back and forth, crossing and uncrossing his arms, digging through his pockets, clearly trying to screw up the courage to say something. Anakin let him stew for a few minutes before putting down his tools. "What do you want, Owen?" 

Owen fidgeted a bit more before saying, "Look, Anakin, I know we didn't get started off on the right foot. But if you think about it, we're almost like brothers. I mean, Shmi had a hand in raising both of us. And you're really good with machines, even with all that crazy Force stuff." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and scratched his face, nervous under Anakin's intense blue gaze. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that Beru and I would really like you to stay here with us. I mean, you're Shmi's son and I owed her a lot, and I think you'd be a great help around here." 

He met Anakin's eyes and flashed a rare smile. "I know it's not glamorous, not like galaxy-hopping with the Jedi. It's hard work, but it can be very satisfying." 

Anakin sat back on his haunches. Despite the hints Owen had been dropping for the past couple of days, he was still a bit surprised that the man really wanted him to stay. And he was surprised how tempted he was to stay. Tatooine was still home, as Padmé said, despite everything that had happened there. And Owen's world was as different from the world of the Jedi as its climate was from Hoth's. 

"I…." _If you stay, you'll be hiding. Hiding from your responsibilities, avoiding the consequences of your actions_. Despite everything, he was still a Jedi Padawan, with a chance to become a Knight. He wasn't sure how the Council would deal with him, but he knew that eventually he would have to return. 

And Padmé…If he stayed on Tatooine, he would forfeit any hope of a future with her. And that, even more than being a Jedi, was what he dreamed of. 

"I'm sorry, Owen. Padmé and Sabé are leaving tomorrow, and I've decided to go with them. I'd like to stay. I really would. But I have responsibilities I have to take care of." 

"Responsibilities to who?" Owen retorted. "The Jedi? What the hell do you owe them?" He paced back and forth, his voice rising in anger. "They may have freed you from one kind of slavery, Anakin Skywalker, but they took you into another kind! Took you away and left your mother behind, never allowing you to see her, or even send her a message! What kind of people do that to small boys? What kind of people take babies from their families?" He wagged his finger in Anakin's face. "You even said you call that Obi-Wan Kenobi person 'Master!' Unless I'm wrong, that's how a slave addresses his owner!" 

"Careful, Owen," Anakin warned with a menacing edge to his voice. "You're about to cross the line." 

Owen stopped pacing and sat down in the sand beside him. "Listen, Anakin. You don't need to get involved with the Jedi again. Stay here with Beru and me. We're your family now. Tatooine might be a backwater asteroid, but it's stable - not much changes here. The Hutts might be in charge, but at least they're predictable. And moisture farming is an honest living." 

Anakin sighed. "It's not just the Jedi, Owen. In fact, if it were just about them, I probably would stay. But I have other reasons for leaving." 

"Padmé." It was not a question. 

Anakin looked surprised. "How did you know?" 

"It's so plain even an hardheaded bantha like me can see it," Owen said with a grin. "Love has to be the one thing in the galaxy that makes all men do stupid stuff."   
  



	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 Chapter 13   


Obi-Wan strode quickly into the Temple Archive, nodding to Master Yaddle as he headed for the data terminals in the back. His ship had landed at the Republic Army Headquarters a few hours before and the Jedi had taken the time to assist Lieutenant Elluis and his Scouts in moving the clone bodies and other material to Republic Intelligence for study. 

Major Tarkin had disappeared as soon as they arrived, saying that he had to report to the Supreme Chancellor immediately. Obi-Wan had to smother a snort of laughter when Elluis replied sarcastically, "Oh, yes, sir, immediately, sir, we understand, sir." Hardly proper military discipline, but Obi-Wan couldn't really blame the young man. And that feeling he had about Tarkin would not go away. If anything, it was growing stronger. 

Master Gallia was already seated at one of the restricted-access terminals. She gave him a warm smile as he approached. "Welcome back, Obi-Wan." 

He bowed. "Thank you, Master." He gracefully slipped into the chair beside her. "Were you able to find the information I requested?" 

"Now, Obi-Wan," Adi chided, tapping commands into the terminal, "when have I _not_ been able to find the information requested?" 

Obi-Wan dipped his head slightly at the light rebuke, then turned his attention to the terminal. A biography of Professor Richtor Spaarti, complete with a holo, occupied the screen. Obi-Wan studied the holo carefully. Spaarti had thick, unruly white hair and a white mustache that drooped all the way over his mouth. "He looks like the original Mad Scientist, doesn't he?" 

Adi frowned. "He may _be_ the original Mad Scientist." She highlighted parts of the bio for him. "Professor Richtor Spaarti. Human, Corellian. Age: 87. Educated at Queen's College, Corellia with post-graduate studies at Coruscant University. He was a Professor of Biology at Coruscant University for almost twenty years, until he was sacked over a scandal involving his research in replicative biology, or cloning. Condensed version is that his research was accepted as long as it involved plants and non-sentient animals. When he started delving into the replication of sentient beings, there was a huge outcry, and the University sent him packing." 

"When did he become involved with the Mining Guild?" Obi-Wan asked. 

"Patience, Obi-Wan. I'm getting there." She tempered the reproof with a smile. "He bumped around the galaxy for a few years, working for large agricultural co-ops and bio-tech companies. The Mining Guild hired him about thirty years ago to spearhead their human cloning efforts. The Republic was cracking down hard on slavery, and powerful economic interests were being threatened. The Droid Project was a complete failure, because mining corporations wanted sentient laborers. Their market research showed that most citizens considered clones lesser beings, and did not object to them being enslaved." 

"The Mining Guild provided Spaarti almost unlimited funds for his research. He developed the Spaarti cylinder, which is basically a large enclosed test tube in which a clone is grown. It has various ports for providing nutrients and oxygen, and can accommodate a life-form's needs from the single-cell stage all the way through adult growth." 

"How long did it take to grow a human clone to maturity?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Adi tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, it varied. According to the research records, clones brought to maturity over the span of at least one year fared the best. Spaarti developed an accelerated growth cycle that took only a few weeks, but those clones suffered from severe organ system degeneration. They rarely survived more than a few weeks or months, at most." She looked disturbed. "The worst part is that all the clones were mentally unstable – schizophrenic at best, dangerously psychotic at worst. Some of these poor creatures are still alive, locked away in asylums. But most were murdered outright by the Guild." 

Obi-Wan frowned. "But the Senate finally ordered the clone labs shut down, didn't it? Was there ever any consideration about what would happen to those beings?" 

"I doubt it. Most people just wanted the issue to go away." Adi shut down the terminal, popped the datacard out and dropped it into his hand. "Professor Spaarti was reportedly devastated by the Senate's decision. He went back to teaching for a while, somewhere on the Rim. He disappeared about five years ago, after a commercial lab he started on Etti went bankrupt." 

Adi reached into her cloak and pulled out another card. "This is the list of the one hundred largest defense contracts for the time period you requested." 

She leaned forward and placed the card in his hand, but did not let it go. "This information is extremely sensitive, Obi-Wan," she said seriously, holding his eyes. "Some very powerful worlds have contracts that are on this list, and some of the defense systems in question are the Supreme Chancellor's pet projects." 

"I understand," he answered, taking the card from her. 

Adi sat back in her chair. "Now, tell me about your encounter with these clone soldiers." He looked at her questioningly. "Specifically, your comments about their presence in the Force." 

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow as he thought back to the fights on Sessone. "It was very strange, Master. You know how every individual makes a distinctive mark in the Force?" Adi nodded. "The clone signatures were not only identical, but somehow not…whole. The best way I can describe it was that it was like a holo that has been repeatedly copied until part of the image is gone." 

Adi considered that a moment. "So cloning can replicate a person's physical body, but cannot capture the essence of the person, that which makes one unique. After all, even identical twins have distinct, if similar, Force signatures." She raised her eyebrows. "And you found that distracting?" 

"Yes, Master. It created a buzzing in my Force-sense that made it difficult to concentrate. Almost like having Master Yoda apply a damper on the mind, but not nearly so strong." 

"Hmmm. I wonder if that effect comes from multiple clones in one place, or if each clone would cause that individually." Adi tapped her chin with her forefinger. "It may be that the presence of so many identical signatures in one place set up some kind of resonance in the Force. Like harmonic oscillation." 

"Harmonic oscillation can be very destructive if applied improperly, Master," Obi-Wan said uneasily. 

"Yes," Adi agreed, meeting his eyes somberly, "it can." 

They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Obi-Wan voiced the question he desperately needed the answer to: "Master, what is the Council going to do about Padawan Skywalker?" 

Adi gave him a reproving look. "Obi-Wan, you know I can't tell you that yet. Anakin's training is of concern to us all, but this situation takes precedence right now." Her expression softened and she touched his arm lightly. "I know you are worried, and I hope he will be all right. I am very fond of him – despite his putting my name on a pharmaceutical company's mailing list for free samples of PMS medication." She smiled. 

"But I must be honest," she continued seriously. "I did not support the Council's decision to allow Anakin to be trained. It wasn't his age as much as his background and all that had happened to him. So many scars…" 

She trailed off, her eyes taking on the faraway look common to Jedi looking beyond the present. "It will be a difficult thing to overcome. He is very powerful, but so emotionally vulnerable. He is undergoing a Trial of sorts. One brought about by his own actions." 

************ 

Obi-Wan left the Archives a few hours later, having carefully studied the material Master Gallia gave him and done some research of his own. The more he read, the more he felt the urge to bathe himself. Finally, that increasing need to clean up, along with hunger and fatigue, drove him back to his quarters. 

The quiet emptiness of the place struck him as soon as he set foot in the door. Without Anakin's restless energy, their quarters seemed dead. Without his Padawan, it was no longer home; it was just a place to store his possessions. 

Obi-Wan wandered aimlessly through the apartment, ending up in Anakin's room. His eyes roamed over it, taking in all the details – the endless droid parts, neatly organized despite their abundance, the tunics hanging in the closet, the boots lined up under the bed. The tiny, faded holo of Padmé on the desk. And crumpled in the corner, a formal cape and a once neatly-pressed white dress shirt. 

Obi-Wan retreated from Anakin's room and went to the 'fresher. After the fastest shower he had ever taken, he dressed swiftly in fresh tunics and fled the apartment's oppressive silence.   


************** 

"Jedi Kenobi!" Obi-Wan turned to see Lieutenant Elluis trotting across the main plaza in front of the Temple. Obi-Wan hardly recognized him at first; he was so used to seeing Elluis in combat fatigues that the young man appeared almost alien in his crisp gray Class-A uniform. 

"Lieutenant Elluis," Obi-Wan greeted him with a slight smile. "I'm not used to seeing you so dressed up." He gestured toward the high-collared gray tunic and billed cap. 

Elluis grunted and fingered the collar. "Well, I don't wear this that much, sir. Usually wear fatigues. But we're on Coruscant now. I have to look like a _real_ officer." He emphasized the word 'real' with contempt, obviously a veiled reference to Major Tarkin. 

"Anyway, sir," the lieutenant went on, "I wanted to thank you for your advice. I just wish I'd followed it sooner." 

"Why?" asked Obi-Wan, sensing Elluis' dismay. "What happened?" 

"My Scout Team's been broken up," Elluis said bitterly. "All of the soldiers are being sent to other Teams, and I've been reassigned to Headquarters, here on Coruscant. As a lieutenant among all that brass, I'll probably be the Officer-in-Charge of Coffee-Making, 'Fresher-Cleaning and Condom-Dispensing." 

_ Damn you, Tarkin_, Obi-Wan thought with a flash of anger. The major had moved faster than he thought. They'd been back on Coruscant less than a day, and Tarkin had already put the screws to Elluis. _And over something as meaningless as a lowly lieutenant's personal estimation of you as a soldier_. Despite Elluis' opinion of Tarkin, the lieutenant had not communicated it to his soldiers and had performed his duties competently and efficiently. 

"I was just going out to get some dinner," Obi-Wan told Elluis. "Why don't you join me, and we can talk about it. That is, if you don't have duties you need to attend to?" 

"No, sir," said the lieutenant. "I've been given a few personal days to get my belongings transferred to Headquarters. So I will join you, thank you, sir." 

"Then don't call me 'sir,' please," the Jedi said with a smile. "I'm not a member of the military hierarchy. Please call me Obi-Wan." He extended his hand. 

Elluis took it with a grin. "Jahn." 

************ 

Seated in a booth at the back corner of the restaurant, Obi-Wan watched in amazement as Jahn Elluis polished off the food from his third trip to the buffet line. _He eats even more than Anakin_. Obi-Wan had chosen this particular place because it was quiet, had a reasonably priced buffet, and the food was good, if plain. Jahn had been quick to take advantage of the all-you-can-eat buffet. 

Obi-Wan sipped his coffee and studied the young man across the table from him. Jahn's brimming energy and earnest demeanor reminded him much of Anakin, though he lacked Anakin's volatility. He had the same youthful confidence, the belief that he could do whatever he put his mind to, no matter what anyone else thought. _Probably a useful trait in the Scouts_, Obi-Wan thought. _They get a lot of crazy, dangerous missions_. 

He was also adaptable. He had already begun to accept his assignment to Headquarters, after pointing out that accepting it didn't mean he had to like it. He planned to submit a request every week for transfer back to the Scouts. "I can generate a lot of paperwork for the bureaucrats between pots of coffee and toilet scrubbing," he said cheerfully. "And one of them might actually slip up and sign it." 

"Where are you from, Jahn?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Elluis wiped his mouth before replying. "Alderaan. Aldera, actually. Right on the western outskirts of the city, near the lake." 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you were chosen for the mission to Sessone? Because you're Alderaanian?" 

"I volunteered, but not because of that. I mean, I was as upset as the average Alderaani, but the mission sounded exciting, and my guys wanted to go." He grimaced. "I didn't realize that I wouldn't be in command." 

"I don't believe that decision had anything to do with you personally, Jahn. Politics." 

"I know. Still makes me mad, though." 

As the dinner and conversation progressed, Obi-Wan found himself growing more impressed with the young officer. Elluis was only twenty-four, two years out of the Republic Military Academy, and had already been a Scout for a year. Most Scout officers had served in the regular infantry forces for at least three years before even being considered for the elite unit. 

When Obi-Wan commented on that, Jahn just shrugged and said, "I won the Roolia Wilderness Trek when I was a senior cadet, so I guess the brass figured I could handle it." 

Obi-Wan nodded, further impressed. The Roolia Wilderness Trek was an endurance survival race over twenty-five hundred kilometers in length, covering all the different types of terrain on Roolia, from snow-capped mountains to arid desert plains. Each competitor had only a knife and his or her wits with which to survive and cover the distance without being captured by Roolian soldiers. A few Jedi had participated in the past and won, but few did anymore, and the ones that did had to agree not to use the Force to aid them. Few people actually ever finished the race, most being rounded up by the Roolian army well before reaching the finish line. 

"How did you do it?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Jahn grinned. "A lot of it had to do with interpreting the rules, which are actually pretty loose. You can fight to escape the soldiers, but you can't hurt or kill anyone. You can't steal food or anything else from the locals, but there is no mention of negotiating or trading for things. Most racers think the locals are unfriendly and will turn them over to the soldiers, so they avoid them. And you _are_ allowed to take stuff from the soldiers. About fifty kilometers into the race, I lured a squad of Roolian soldiers into the forest, then circled around and swiped their speeder. Made about a thousand kilometers in that before I had to ditch it to keep from getting caught. But I got away with a small toolbox and their maps, which had all of the troop positions marked on it." 

The Jedi listened as Elluis described the race, how he disguised himself, hitched rides, traded repair work for food ("I have an engineering degree and I'm pretty good with my hands."), and evaded capture. After the speeder incident, none of the Roolian soldiers had even seen him again until he crossed the finish line, the youngest person ever to win. And all without a single violent encounter. 

_ An impressive young man indeed_, thought Obi-Wan. _Tarkin has done the Republic Army a major disservice_.   


***************** 

The following morning, Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the grass by the waterfall in the Temple gardens, drawn to Anakin's favorite spot by an impulse he couldn't explain. Was this how Qui-Gon felt when he realized he was losing Xanatos? Obi-Wan didn't think that he was losing Anakin, but a dark spot formed in the pit of his stomach as he worried ceaselessly for his Padawan's well-being. 

He tried to meditate, but gave up after several unsuccessful attempts to settle his mind. Instead, he mulled over his session with the Council, thinking that for once, he'd like to go up there without having to answer questions about Anakin. And without having to listen to every Master's opinion about his Padawan's training, emotions, disrespect, irreverence, and any other complaint that could be pinned on the boy. 

He wondered if Anakin's power frightened the Council. They kept a closer eye on his training than any other Padawan in Obi-Wan's memory. They did not interfere with Obi-Wan's tutelage, but he could often feel their scrutiny like a physical thing. And it angered him a bit at times – why did they agree to let him train Anakin if they felt like they had to watch him all the time? Either he was doing the job or he was not. 

Today's line of questioning dealt with Obi-Wan's decision to send Queen Amidala after Anakin. He didn't bother to ask how they knew. They always knew. Obi-Wan's moments of disagreement with the Council were rare, but the issue of Anakin's friendship with the Queen of Naboo was a consistent one, especially over the past few years. 

To the Masters, Padmé was a distraction that Anakin did not need. To Obi-Wan, she was an island in Anakin's sea of isolation from others his age. Their friendship was uncomplicated. She had always accepted him for exactly who he was, and expected no more and no less of him. And she could sympathize with his situation, as she was similarly bound by duty, with heavy burdens and expectations placed on her at a young age. Operating outside each other's worlds, they had always been free to unload their hopes and anxieties on one another in a way that they could not do with people within their own circles. 

And he had not _sent_ Padmé after Anakin – he had _asked_ her to go. A fine distinction, to be sure. He had been fairly certain she would go, but the choice had been hers. And she was wise and level-headed. She could keep Anakin calm and possibly prevent him from doing something else rash. 

"Wise, she is indeed, Obi-Wan." Yoda's voice came from directly behind him. Lost in his own thoughts, Obi-Wan had not sensed his approach. "But wisdom and control cannot be imposed on young Skywalker. Learned it must be. Mastered from within." The tiny Master hobbled over to sit beside the younger Jedi. 

"Master?" 

"No longer a boy, is Skywalker." Yoda's sleepy blue eyes widened a bit. "Strong is the bond between the Queen and the Padawan. But childhood friendship, it no longer is, hmm, when they are children no more? Make him vulnerable, it will. It is a distraction he needs not." 

Obi-Wan considered that for a moment. Had he been too quick to dismiss Anakin's feelings as a simple boyhood infatuation? Had they developed beyond the bond of friendship? Did she feel the same way? Could a Jedi hope to maintain a relationship outside the Order? Was it even within the Code to have such a relationship? For the first time since he took Anakin as a Padawan, Obi-Wan entertained serious doubts about his ability to train the young man. There had been so much left to learn from Qui-Gon. Had Obi-Wan truly been ready to teach? 

"Master Yoda, why did you allow me to train Anakin?" 

The Forcemaster's elfin ears lifted as he regarded Obi-Wan, his wizened features inscrutable. "Council's decision, it was. Agree with it at the time, I did not." 

"And now?" 

"Too late now, for disagreement. The boy has been training for ten years. Completed, it must be, hmm?" 

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. Was Yoda being deliberately obtuse? "Master, what I mean is, why did you allow me, in particular, to train him? Why not one of the Masters? Or even a Council member, given his potential? I had so much left to learn." 

"Regrets, you have? Now? You expressed no doubts when you began. Finish what he started, he must." Compassion lit Yoda's wrinkled features as he saw the worry reflected in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Good is it to struggle with these things. To be a Jedi is more than saber fighting and moving objects. Much responsibility, hmm? Learned together, you and Skywalker did. You taught best by doing, showing him your strengths." He tapped Obi-Wan's leg with his stick. "And your shortcomings. Your destiny, it was, yes." 

"Master, how can I finish if I cannot go after him?" 

Yoda sniffed. "His choice is it, to finish. Young man, he is now. Decides for himself what he must do. A struggle awaits him – a struggle with himself. Only he can choose what path he will take. Until then, larger responsibilities you have. Find the source of these clones, you must. Then you can find young Skywalker." 

************ 

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine stood behind his massive desk as he studied the dozen or so beings gathered in his office. This meeting was irregular, but hardly unusual. The most powerful systems did not always have their representatives on the necessary committees, so ad hoc gatherings like this were both a political and a practical necessity. Not much got accomplished in the Senate without the support of the people gathered here. 

"Let's not waste any time, Senators," Palpatine began without preamble. "Major Tarkin's task force returned from Sessone yesterday. He has verified Queen Amidala's assertions of cloning." 

Startled murmurs and grunts of disbelief rippled through the group. Palpatine's sharp blue eyes swept over each face. Only Bail Antilles and Sio Bibble did not look surprised. The Chancellor's eyes narrowed slightly. He did not care for the sharp-tongued Bibble, the man who had replaced him as Naboo's Senator. His presence at this meeting was merely a courtesy extended to the world that first uncovered the cloning. Queen Amidala was influential, and Bibble a capable legislator, but Naboo simply did not have the wealth and resources to be counted among the major powers of the Republic.   
  
"What proof of this is offered?" demanded Senator Toora of the Corporate Sector. 

"The task force commander will brief you himself." Palpatine sat down and gestured at Tarkin. The lanky major stepped forward from his unobtrusive position in the back corner of the office. 

"We engaged in several skirmishes with these alleged Mandalore soldiers near the mines of Sessone," Tarkin said. He briefed the group on the task force's expedition, including Obi-Wan's actions, concluding with, "We brought back several of the clone bodies, along with other material found at the mines and settlements. Republic Intelligence currently has possession of it." 

He looked at Mace Windu. "I believe that Kenobi intended to render a similar report to the Jedi Council." 

Mace nodded almost imperceptibly. Minus the information about the Sith, Tarkin's report mirrored Obi-Wan's. "Jedi Kenobi is still pursuing his investigation into the source of these clones." 

"May I inquire into the nature of his…investigation, Master Windu?" asked Senator Talador. 

Mace's eyes narrowed slightly as he detected more than idle curiosity behind the request. Letia Talador represented Etti, a wealthy and powerful Corporate World with interests in almost every major industry in the galaxy. He recalled Obi-Wan's request of Adi. "I can't really comment at this time, Senator. Jedi Kenobi just returned to the Temple yesterday. And I believe you would find Jedi investigative techniques a bit…unorthodox." 

Major Tarkin barely smothered a snort. 

Bail Antilles leaned forward in his chair. "I hope Kenobi's investigation is proceeding rapidly, Master Windu. There has been another attack, this one on the Rim World of Tatooine." 

Mace looked at him sharply. _Skywalker…_ "Where did you hear this, Senator?" 

"From Prince Organa," replied Antilles. "I don't know who or what his source is, but whoever it is gave a firsthand account, and claimed that the attackers were Mandalore clones." 

"Naboo Intelligence has received corroborating reports, Master Windu," said Senator Bibble with a wry expression. "I assure you that the source is impeccable." 

_ The Queen_, Mace realized. 

"Why would an army attack Tatooine?" asked Mon Mothma, the young, newly-elected Senator from Chandrila. "It's remote, with no usable resources to speak of. The Hutts rule. What purpose would that serve?" 

"Terrorism," Antilles answered shortly. "All of these attacks have been brutal, but the purpose of this one seemed to be merely destructive." He looked around at the assembled group. "Most of the worlds represented here have the wealth and capability to defend themselves against this army." He nodded toward Bibble. "But what about the smaller worlds without our resources? We as a Republic are beholden to protect all of our members. If we cannot unite to defend all of our systems equally, then what is the benefit behind Republic membership? We seem to have forgotten that our purpose is the common good of all beings within our borders." 

He pause a moment. "Under the advice and consent of Prince Bail Organa, I will submit to the Senate a bill calling for the consolidation of the military forces of all Republic members under the unified command of the Republic Armed Services." 

The room erupted in argument as every delegate tried to speak at once. Exclamations ranging from "It's about time!" to "That's outrageous!" filled the office. Palpatine sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, watching with hooded eyes. 

"You will not have the support of most of the Corporate Sector, Antilles, including my own consortium," said Toora, her voice rising above the debate. "Our forces exist to protect our trade routes and shipping against piracy and invasion, not to defend some backwater rocks against something that may or may not be a genuine threat." She sneered. "I think your Viceroy's concern has more to do with his personal desires for a certain young Queen than it does with his regard for the galaxy!" 

Antilles leaped to his feet, incensed at the implication. "The company Prince Organa chooses to keep is no one's business but his own! The private lives of planetary leaders have no bearing on this discussion!" 

"Oh, come now, Antilles," said Aks Moe of Malastare. "We've all seen the news reports. And the young Queen is very beautiful, for a human." His eyestalks wiggled in the Gran version of a leer. "I wonder if your Viceroy would be so keen on this if Naboo had any substantial armed forces." 

"Do you base all of your decisions on the rambling speculations of the gossip rags, Moe?" Sio Bibble asked caustically. 

Palpatine stood up, cutting them off with a wave of his hand. "But you will have the support of the Supreme Chancellor," he told Antilles. He leaned over, placing his hands on the polished surface of his desk, his voice tense. "Senators, while your powerful worlds bicker over taxes and trade rights, people are suffering and dying in these outlying systems. The Mandalore attacks straddle the Rim trade routes. As they strengthen their foothold, your colonies will be cut off and destroyed, much like Sessone. And the small, independent worlds will be left on their own. I will not see another planet suffer as Naboo did under the oppression of the Trade Federation." 

"And we will need the full involvement of the Jedi Knights, Master Windu," he continued. "If the Mandalore have truly returned, we cannot afford for the Jedi to keep themselves isolated and aloof."   


************* 

_ What am I doing here?_ Obi-Wan thought as he looked around the dreary, windowless office in the Republic Army Personnel Division. Everything was drab – the faded and frayed gray carpet, the peeling off-white paint, the stained counter, and the Rodian sergeant stationed behind it. The odors of stale food and overcooked coffee only added to the bleakness. He shifted uncomfortably on the crusty couch in the waiting area, a piece of furniture done in the style that Obi-Wan mentally labeled Government-Issue Ugly. 

He was acting like Qui-Gon, he decided. Taking on a pointless project, allowing himself to become distracted from the larger picture. _But then again, Jahn Elluis is hardly Jar-Jar Binks_. 

Obi-Wan felt partially responsible for what happened to Elluis. He needed to try to get him out of Headquarters, back to an assignment where his skills could be better utilized. A man of Elluis' potential hardly needed to be wasted supervising cleanup details. 

_ Oh, admit it_, he scolded himself. _You're trying to help him because he reminds you of Anakin_. 

"Number thirty-six." The Rodian's voice was as bland and colorless as everything else was in the room. Obi-Wan glanced down at the small piece of flimsy in his hand. He held number thirty-seven. He looked around. He was the only person on the waiting area, so he stood and went to the counter, handing the Rodian his number. 

"You have number thirty-seven," said the Rodian in her dull voice. "You'll have to wait until your number is called." 

"But I'm the only one in here!" said Obi-Wan, incredulous. 

"I'm sorry, but you will have to be seated until your number is called," intoned the sergeant. 

Obi-Wan returned to the couch. His rear end had just touched the cushion when the Rodian called out, "Number thirty-seven." 

The Jedi tried hard not to roll his eyes as he returned to the counter. _Bureaucrats_, he thought sourly. 

"What can I do for you?" the Rodian asked. 

"I need to request a transfer—" 

"Personal transfers are down the hall, Room 200231," said the Rodian, turning away from the counter. 

_ Force, can't you see I'm not a soldier?_ "No, I'm requesting a transfer for someone else," corrected Obi-Wan. 

"Oh." The Rodian blinked. She passed a datapad and stylus across the counter. "Please fill out this form. In triplicate."

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged as he scrolled through the long document_. This is going to take me at least an hour. Assuming that I can answer all these questions about Elluis_. Name, rank, service number, date of birth, place of birth, height, weight - _why do they care about that?_ – home of record, marital status, number of dependent children, commissioning source, date of entry to active service, date of rank…Obi-Wan realized with a sinking feeling that he would need Elluis' service record to answer most of these questions. He went back to the counter. 

"I need to see this officer's service record," he told the sergeant. 

The Rodian looked up from her terminal. "Take a number, please." 

Obi-Wan suppressed a scream as he went to the door and plucked another piece of flimsy from the dispenser. 

"Number thirty-eight," said the sergeant. 

Obi-Wan returned to the counter and handed over his number. 

"What can I do for you?" asked the sergeant. 

This time, Obi-Wan did roll his eyes. "I need to see the service record for First Lieutenant Jahn Elluis." He experienced a flash of panic when another datapad was pushed across the counter to him. Then he realized it was just a logbook to record when service records were checked out. He entered his own name, then Elluis' name, rank, and current assignment into the log. The sergeant looked at the log and typed some commands into her terminal, then pulled out a datacard. 

"I will need to see some ID before I can let you see this," she said. 

Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He didn't usually carry an ID card, and it wasn't like he had a hovercar license. His Temple-issue pilot's permit was in his quarters. "I'm a Jedi Knight," he told her. "I don't usually carry ID." 

"No ID, no service record." 

Obi-Wan snatched his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. "Is this enough identification?" he asked tightly, waving the weapon around. 

The Rodian blinked and handed him the datacard. 

"Thank you." Obi-Wan slouched down onto the crusty couch and began to fill out the forms.   


Just under an hour later, Obi-Wan stretched and stood up. He was still the only one in the waiting area, though a veritable parade of soldiers had come in and out of the office while he was hunched over the paperwork. Just to be on the safe side, he took another number from the dispenser. 

"Number ninety-three," droned the sergeant. 

Obi-Wan went back to the counter with his number. "Ninety-three," he said smugly, handing it over along with the datapad. 

The Rodian looked over the paperwork. "I'm sorry," she said, "but this officer was just transferred here. He is not eligible for reassignment for at least twenty-four standard months." 

"What?!" said Obi-Wan. His temper was starting to fray. He leaned over the counter. "I would like to see your supervisor, Sergeant." 

The sergeant huffed and disappeared through the back door, returning a few minutes later with a chubby Twi'lek wearing the stripes of a sergeant first class. After listening to the sergeant's explanation, the Twi'lek turned his beady eyes to Obi-Wan and said, "Sergeant Gorda is correct. An officer must be stabilized for twenty-four months after reassignment before being eligible for another." 

"Surely there must be exceptions made in some cases," said Obi-Wan. 

The Twi'lek reached under the counter and came up with another datapad and card. "If you fill out this form, it will go up through channels to Colonel Peeka, the Assistant Chief of Staff for Personnel. Only he can approve such requests." 

The Jedi took one look at the five-page form – in triplicate, of course – and snapped. Three shouting matches and one Jedi Mind Trick later, Obi-Wan stalked out of the Personnel Division, Elluis' approved transfer documents clutched tightly in his grip.   
  



	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Chapter 14   
  


_ He choked and coughed in the acrid smoke as he raced through the burning city. Tears burned his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he followed the desperate voice_

_ "Anakin!" it screamed. "Ani, help me!" He pushed his legs harder, but they felt heavier and heavier as he drew closer to the voice. "Hurry, Ani, hurry!" it urged him._

_ He burst into a gutted building, straining to see in the semi-darkness. "Ani," the voice came again, weaker this time. He lit his saber, throwing its light across the room. A figure lay on the floor, its hands outstretched. "Ani…"_

_ "Mom!" he heard himself scream. He started to run her, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back. He jerked desperately against the unseen force, but was unable to break free. Turning, he saw an arm protruding from the shadows, a hand clutching his cloak in an iron grip. The arm was clad the brown and tan sleeves of a Jedi cloak and tunic. The rest of the owner was hidden. "Let me go!" Anakin cried. He screamed as crushing pain enveloped his torso. Finally, he slipped out of his Jedi cloak, leaving it hanging in the mysterious fist. High-pitched, cackling laughter echoed around him as he ran to his mother, only to have her disappear in front of his eyes. He threw back his head and howled, "Noooooooo!"_

Anakin jerked awake with a sob. He sat up amidst his tangled sheets and tried to calm his breathing. _Did I scream out loud?_

He swiped at the tears and looked around the darkened bedroom. Guards patrolled the hallways of the Palace at all hours of the night. If he had screamed, surely someone would be in here by now. Throwing the sheets aside, he got out of bed and went out onto the balcony. 

The cool breeze slipped across his bare chest, and he shivered. He closed his eyes, taking in the muffled roar of the falls and the sweet floral scents drifting up from the gardens. A small smile played across his face. Padmé always made sure he had a room that overlooked the gardens. And the falls had always fascinated him. So much water. It had taken several trips to Naboo for him to realize that it was not being wasted. 

His peace was only momentary, as his thoughts returned to his dream_. Mom is dead! Why I am still having it?_ _Is the Force going to make me relive her death over and over again?_

He had stopped meditating at all since his mother's death. He had tried once, the night before he and Padmé and Sabé left the Lars' farm, and what he had felt frightened him so badly that he hadn't had the courage to try again. Cold, black thoughts. An unbelievably searing heat, burning him alive. Harsh, raspy breathing. Padmé, older, wiser, and sadder. 

_ **Obi-Wan**_**,** he called. _**I need you…help me**…_Nothing. 

Anakin opened his eyes to see the barest peek of the sun over the horizon. He wasn't going to get any more sleep, so he might as well start his day. He returned to his room to get dressed, wondering if he could find something a little more understated than the Naboo garments Padmé had provided for him. Digging deep into the wardrobe, he came out with a simple white tunic. The sleeves were a bit billowy for his taste, but it was less ostentatious than most of the clothing. Thank the Force, he still had his Jedi trousers and belt. But he wasn't sure how many more washings they would endure before they fell apart. 

Maybe he could get Padmé or one of the handmaidens to take him shopping. _There's no telling what kind of clown they'd have me looking like_. _But then again, I'd wear the Queen's gowns and makeup if it meant spending more time with her._

Padmé had been working almost nonstop since their arrival on Naboo, and they had seen little of each other. He shouldn't really be upset about it – she had dropped everything to chase him to Tatooine, and she had to catch up sometime. But he sensed her emotional turmoil and knew that she was avoiding him. Hiding behind Queen Amidala's cool façade. And it hurt. 

_ Maybe I shouldn't have told her yet_. But he'd always had these feelings for her, much more pure when he was younger, but they were there just the same. He could no more deny them than he could stop the sun from rising. 

He pulled on his clothes, grabbed his equipment and left the room. 

********************* 

Padmé hurried down the corridor toward her chambers, head spinning with the details of her day's schedule. She worked long hours during normal situations, and her absence from Court, along with the worries about the Mandalore clones only made things worse. She wondered if she would ever get caught up. She groaned inwardly as she envisioned endless meetings, squabbling advisors, and fawning lobbyists. Not to mention throbbing headaches. 

She wiped her face with a towel, thinking that her morning exercise routine was the only thing keeping her sane anymore. _I might have to let up some_, she thought. Poor Rabé probably thought that her sovereign was trying to kill her during their sparring session. _Of course, Rabé almost killed Sabé and me after a spending some time under the makeup._

Sabé thought that Padmé's frustration had another source. The handmaiden quickly discovered that prodding and taunting her Queen about it only resulted in Padmé kicking her butt as well as Rabé's. 

"Must've hit a nerve, huh?" Sabé had said to Rabé as she lay facedown on the mat, the Queen's foot pressed into her back. Rabé had wisely said nothing, but her dark eyes danced with humor. Like Sabé, she missed very little. 

The worst part was that Sabé was right. She usually was. _Maybe I should fire them all and hire less perceptive handmaidens._

As Padmé passed by an auxiliary ballroom, a flurry of motion caught her attention, along with a familiar humming sound. She stopped and looked into the cavernous room. _Oh, my.._. 

Anakin was dueling with a seeker remote. His actions were fluid and swift, almost completely silent. Naboo's brilliant morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and he had removed his tunic in response to the heat. His skin glistened with a slight sheen of sweat. The amber blade of the lightsaber arced gracefully as it deflected a tiny bolt away from him. Again and again, his movements seemingly effortless. Padmé gawked at him, mesmerized by the play of his well-toned back and arm muscles as he swung the weapon. _He's so beautiful_. The thought formed before she could stifle it. She felt decidedly… warm, all of a sudden. 

She started to step into the room, then hesitated. Things had changed between her and Anakin, in a way she wasn't entirely comfortable with. Their friendship had evolved into something deeper during their time together on Tatooine. And it wasn't just their shared kiss… 

Since returning to Naboo, she had avoided him - and dealing with her unsettling feelings - by throwing herself into her work. She saw Anakin only at meals, which were crowded affairs filled with handmaidens and advisors. Not really conducive to anything other than general conversation. 

She was almost able to dismiss the feelings. 

Almost. 

Sabé continually nagged her about it, and Padmé rationalized by saying that the work absolutely had to be done. 

_ But that's so unfair to him_, she realized with shame. _He's lost his mother, he feels abandoned by his Master, and his best friend withdraws from him because of a few uncomfortable feelings. How selfish of me._ She stepped into the room, watching him unobtrusively from behind a column. 

Sensing his audience, Anakin grinned to himself. Using the Force, he called two more remotes. He stepped up his speed and added some jumps and spins. When he felt that he had Padmé's full attention on him, he maneuvered one of the seekers behind her. She jumped and gave a small shriek as a tiny red bolt nipped her on the backside. 

Deactivating the remotes and his saber, Anakin turned to face her. A cocky grin spread across his face. "Good morning, Your Highness," he said with a deep bow. "You're up and about early today." 

"You'd better have a good explanation for that, Anakin Skywalker!" Padmé glowered at him, rubbing her rear end. 

_ I'd like to do that_. The thought sprang into his head as he watched her hand move. His eyes roamed over her, taking in her sweaty face, the loose tunic and the form-fitting leggings before returning to stare at her hand as it glided over her bottom. 

"Do you mind?" 

Her voice, sounding both amused and embarrassed, hit him like a splash of cold water. He blushed furiously as he met her eyes, feeling like he had when he was thirteen and Master Gallia caught him peeking into the female Padawans' locker room. Recovering quickly, he smiled rakishly and said, "There's no need to hide, Your Highness. Why would you want to be a _secret_ admirer?" 

That was a loaded question if Padmé had ever heard one. 

"So when did you build the new lightsaber?" she asked. "Sabé said that you couldn't find a suitable crystal." 

"I couldn't; this is just a training saber. The quality of the crystal isn't as important. After all, it's just against remotes." Anakin gathered up the remotes and put them and the saber in a carryall bag, next to the wall. Then he snatched up his tunic and pulled it back on. 

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Why are you working out in here? We have a gym and a combat room, as you well know." 

"There's no one else to practice with, and I wanted to be alone," he said. "Besides, there's more room for the remotes in here." 

She eyed the bag of training equipment. "Something like that is surely no contest for someone of your skill," she said, lightly taunting. She raised her eyebrows. "Good against remotes is one thing; good against the living – that's something else." 

"Why, Your Highness, are you challenging me?" 

She hesitated. _Why not?_ Padmé grinned wickedly at him. "Indeed I am, Jedi Skywalker," she said haughtily, her hands on her hips. She checked her chrono. "Unfortunately, I have business to attend to right now, so meet me in the combat room tonight. One hour after dinner." 

"Why not right after dinner?" he asked. 

"I want to give your food time to settle. No sense in having to clean up a mess _after_ I wipe the floor with you." She gave him a sly smile and sauntered out of the room. 

Anakin stared after her for several minutes before he realized his mouth was hanging open. Then he grabbed his bag. _I need a shower. A COLD shower_. 

************************* 

"…verified our suspicions of cloning, Your Highness. According to the reports submitted by both Major Tarkin of the Supreme Chancellor's office and Obi-Wan Kenobi, the task force on Sessone engaged in several skirmishes with these clone soldiers. Republic Intelligence is now apparently in possession of the clone bodies, along with the other material the task force gathered." 

Queen Amidala's cool gaze swept over her Advisory Council, all of whom looked shocked and horrified. Except for Captain Panaka, who just looked grim. General Ceel, the Gungan military liaison to the Court, wore an inscrutable expression. Amidala found herself looking more and more to Ceel for counsel. The old Gungan was shrewd and cunning, as astute politically as he was militarily. 

She turned her attention back to Sio Bibble's hologram projected into the center of the Throne Room. "And what of the Senate's reaction?" she asked. 

Bibble exhaled audibly. "The Supreme Chancellor has not yet brought this to the Senate as a whole, or even to the Defense Committee. I sat in on an impromptu meeting in his office with Senators from some of the more influential worlds, including Alderaan, Chandrila, Corellia, and several Corporate Sector representatives. Senator Antilles announced his intent to introduce legislation to unite the member militaries into a single Republic Armed Force." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but the response to the news of the clones was lukewarm, at best. Alderaan, of course, takes it seriously, and Senator Mon Mothma was appalled at the notion of clone armies. But most of the others are skeptical, the Corporate Worlds in particular. Especially after both Tarkin and Kenobi described the clone soldiers as 'not especially competent.' The business types don't think the threat is sufficient. And the taxes they pay on industry and trade would largely fund this proposal, so they will have an inordinate amount of influence over it." 

Amidala stared impassively, her thoughts churning behind her serene mask. No, the clone soldiers were not particularly effective. After all, she and Sabé alone had destroyed what had to have been at least a platoon. But they were brutal, soulless, and easily replaceable. Not unlike battle droids. And they didn't need a control ship to function. _That's what they are_, she realized_. Sentient battle droids_. 

But how far would Bail Organa's legislation – and it was his, though Antilles would submit it – go toward unifying the various armed forces? Would participation by all worlds be mandatory? And the possibility of conscription? Amidala didn't even want to think about that. The peaceful Naboo culture was still adapting to the changes she'd implemented after the Trade Federation invasion. The Naboo now had a small standing military, a core of professional soldiers and pilots that formed the backbone of a citizen-based militia. All able-bodied Naboo between the ages of eighteen and forty-five reported for training for two weeks each year. 

Her people had accepted that grudgingly, but Naboo's pacifist tendencies were deeply ingrained. The Scar of Remembrance that split her lower lip reminded Amidala of Naboo's painful past every time she looked in the mirror. The Trade Federation War had left the Queen with two very difficult tasks: to engage Naboo further into the Republic politically, to take advantage of the protection it offered, while reducing her planet's dependence on the outside resources that had left it so vulnerable to the Nemoidians' depredations in the first place. 

The age-old questions: balancing love of life with the need to protect it, and weighing the needs of the people against those of the planet itself. Amidala suddenly felt old and tired. 

"I will need to speak to the Viceroy about the details of his proposal" – _and not just that one_ – "before I can give you any instructions, Senator." Bibble nodded and Amidala noticed how pale and drawn he looked, even with the generally poor resolution of the Holonet. He did not seem well, though his tongue and wit were as sharp as ever. _Ten years on Coruscant could do that to a person_, she thought with a twinge of guilt. Bibble's appointment as Senator was supposed to have been temporary, until elections for a new representative could be held. But his candor and dedication were like a breath of fresh air in the Senate, and the people liked him, so they had not called for new elections. Amidala could have done so herself, but had not, following the apparent will of the people. She hoped her inaction had not cost Bibble his health. 

"With your permission, then, Your Highness?" She nodded and Bibble bowed slightly as he terminated the connection. 

Her Advisory Council immediately burst into argument over the news of Alderaan's impending bill. Only General Ceel remained quiet, his eyestalks swiveling as he studied the rest of the Council impassively. Amidala let them bicker for several minutes before raising a slim hand to halt the debate. 

"It does little good to debate an issue when we are not in possession of all the facts." She wondered how Palpatine stood doing this with the thousands of delegates in the Republic Senate. Her composed stare wandered over her advisors. "But I will expect that by the time we have the details, you will be ready to outline for me the effects that this legislation could have on us. Particularly from the economic and military manpower aspects of it. General Ceel," she said, turning to him, "I would be most interested in the Gungan perspective on this proposal. As we move toward greater unity, this could have a very strong impact on your people." The Gungans still made up the bulk of the planet's standing military forces, though they were not yet fully integrated with those of the Naboo. 

He inclined his head fractionally. "I will be discussin' it with the Bosses when I return to Otoh Gunga." 

"Thank you. And on that note," she said, looking at her Minister of the Interior, "I would like to know the status of the transport passageway from Theed to Otoh Gunga." 

The Minister consulted his datapad. "The engineers are entering the final design phase, Your Highness. There were some issues over whether to use Naboo or Gungan design and construction techniques. By necessity, Naboo concepts will be used on the surface portion, with the Gungans handling the underwater portions. The remaining problems involve joining the two at the meeting point in the Solleu." 

A movement at the back of the Throne Room caught Amidala's attention, and she glanced over to see Anakin slip into the room. A small smile flitted across her lips. Anakin had apparently given up on his remaining Jedi clothing – he wore a Royal Pilot's uniform, minus the helmet and long coat. The Minister's voice went on. Amidala listened with half an ear to potential construction concerns with sea predators, worker safety, budgets, and other issues, the rest of her attention held by Anakin, though she concealed it well. _He looks so dashing. The uniform really suits him_. 

Anakin stood quietly to the side and slightly behind Captain Panaka, his hands clasped at the small of his back. His mouth quirked in a little half-smile as he realized he was distracting her. Not obviously – her painted face still wore its placid expression – but the occasional flick of her eyes in his direction gave her away. Sabé caught his eye from her seat to Amidala's right, and winked. The bodyguard was almost as attuned to the Queen as he was, and she could see the effect his presence had on her sovereign, though it was transparent to anyone else in the room. 

Anakin stifled a yawn as the meeting wore on. Reports from the Minister of the Economy and the Royal Treasurer, the status of pending Senate trade legislation, and the seemingly mindless debate on the other day-to-day issues of government began to run together in his mind. He wondered how Amidala stood it. If he had to sit and listen to stuff like this all the time, he'd Force-choke someone. 

************************ 

Padmé sighed with relief as she shrugged out of the heavy brocade gown and let it crumple to the floor. She sat down at the vanity and wiped the white makeup from her face. Behind her, Rabé's nimble fingers pulled the retaining pins from the headpiece. Padmé sighed again as her hair tumbled loose down her back. She wound her fingers through it and scratched vigorously, then relaxed as Rabé took up the hairbrush and worked the kinks out, leaving soft waves flowing over her shoulders. 

Sabé leaned against the wall by the vanity and eyed her Queen with suspicion as Padmé quickly pulled her hair back from her face, securing it into a neat bun with an elastic band. She then went to the dresser, took out a set of workout clothes and put them on. "Going somewhere, Your Highness?" Sabé asked. 

"Out," Padmé replied shortly, pulling on a long burgundy handmaiden's cloak. 

Sabé cocked an eyebrow at her. _Something's changed_. Dinner tonight had been fairly relaxed, still crowded with advisors, but the Queen had forbidden any shoptalk and had invited Anakin to sit next to her. They could not have had any type of substantial conversation, but Sabé had been happy to see them looking more at ease than they had in a while. And Amidala had dismissed everyone afterwards, saying that she was going to take the evening off. 

"Care to tell your bodyguard where you're going?" Sabé asked. 

"No," said Padmé, "I don't." She raised the hood of her cloak and slipped out of her chambers. 

Rabé and Sabé looked at each other and shrugged. Whatever it was that had gotten into the Queen, Anakin had something to do with it, Sabé was sure. Then she grinned evilly and beckoned the rest of the handmaidens from their rooms. They huddled together, whooping with excitement as they listened to their leader.   
  


Padmé arrived in the combat room to find Anakin already there, in a most unusual position. Upside down, standing on his hands in the center of the big sparring mat, eyes closed. As she watched, he lifted one hand from the mat so that he supported himself with one arm. His balance never faltered. Then he slowly pushed up until he was balanced on one finger, holding perfectly still. 

Then his blue eyes snapped open, and he grinned at her. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She felt a flicker of irritation. 

"Show-off," she said acidly. 

He gracefully rolled down to a seated position. "Merely warming up, Your Highness," he said, favoring her with a lop-sided grin. He got to his feet and began hopping up and down, rotating his neck and shoulders to loosen them up. "What, no handmaidens? No guards?" 

"Now why would I want to humiliate you in front of an audience?" Padmé took off her cloak and hung it up on one of the wall hooks, then began her own series of stretches and warm-ups, centering her mind and body. 

Anakin tried not to stare as she loosened up, but it was difficult. She wore a form-fitting black bodysuit and soft-soled black boots. _That's going to be distracting as all get out_, he thought. _I wonder if she wore that deliberately._

"So, Your Highness, will it be weapons?" he asked. "Or hand-to-hand?" 

_ Hand-to-hand? I just bet he'd like that._ The next thought popped up before she could escape it. _So would you, Padmé_. "Weapons," she replied. "Would you care to choose?" 

"I bow to your wisdom, Your Highness," he said with another grin. 

"Please don't call me that, Ani. Not in here." Padmé went to the weapons locker and mulled over the choices. With his height, he would have the reach advantage using any weapon. She needed something that she knew she had more experience with. Saber, epee, sword…no, with his lightsaber training, he'd be too hard to beat. _Ah, there_…She reached into the locker and came out with two pugil sticks, long lightly padded staffs with large cushioned ends. She tossed one at Anakin. 

"What's this?" He eyed the long staff with trepidation, watching her as she twirled hers around deftly. 

"Pugil sticks," she said. "Use two hands. Like this." She held her staff up, hands grasping it shoulder-width apart in an over-under grip. "A win comes by pinning your opponent, back or front, a kill point, same as a saber, or forcing your opponent out of the boundaries." She gestured at the large white ring drawn on the mat. "Or a knockout," she added with a smile. "And no crazy somersaulting or anything like that." 

"I can't use the Force?" 

"Afraid you can't beat me without it?" His scowl told her that her jab had hit the mark. "Ready?" Now she wore the cocky grin, watching as he hefted the weapon uncertainly and placed his hands. 

"Ready." He grasped the stick firmly, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Their eyes met and he winked. 

_ Arrogant git_, she thought irritably, then calmed herself. She circled him patiently, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move. She often used this strategy when sparring with Sabé, whose patience was woefully limited. 

Anakin watched her closely as she circled him like a predator. Just like Obi-Wan, waiting for his aggressive Padawan to take the offensive. Well, he wouldn't disappoint her. He lunged, swinging the staff in a downward arc toward her head. 

She parried easily, knocking his weapon aside. Her follow-through brought one of the cushioned ends across his jaw. Hard. He staggered back and stared at her in disbelief. She smiled sweetly at him. 

"Very impressive," he said, working his jaw and checking for missing teeth. They all seemed to be there. For now. He lunged at her again, swinging harder and faster. She blocked everything, and managed to get in a few bruising jabs to his midsection in the process. His weapon had yet to touch her body. He backed off and circled. "So where did you get the training?" He struck out at her again. 

She blocked it, just barely. "A Queen has to able to defend herself, you know. I don't spend _all_ of my time listening to the babble of bureaucrats." She knew the chatter was meant to distract her. Even when he didn't consciously use the Force, he was probably always instinctively drawing on it, so he could easily handle it. But she needed to concentrate, especially with his height advantage. "Why does that surprise you? You've seen me fight before." 

"With a blaster," Anakin said. "Not close-quarters." His pugil stick flashed out again. 

Padmé turned to block, but he abruptly changed directions and brought the staff around to land across her shoulder blades. She rolled with the blow, barely making her feet before he was on her again, his pugil stick twirling and jabbing as he looked for an opening. She retreated, now completely on the defensive as she parried strike after strike. He had an enormous strength advantage over her, in addition to his height. It took all of her energy just to ward off the forceful blows. She was already puffing, while he hardly seemed to be tired at all. _At least he's not going easy on me_. 

"You're very good, Padmé," he said, lightly mocking. "Keep practicing, and one day you'll actually be able to challenge me." 

"Oh, is that so?" she retorted. She ducked another swing and brought her staff around to rap him across the knuckles. He yelped and let go with that hand. She pressed her advantage, jabbing and slashing while he parried one-handed. 

Anakin backed up before her attack, genuinely impressed by her quickness and strength. But she was visibly tiring. She had the superior skill, but he was stronger; all he had to do was fend her off until she exhausted herself. "Come on," he taunted. "Hit me!" 

"I'm trying!" she ground out between clenched teeth. 

"No!" he said, imitating Yoda's voice. "Do…or do not. There is no try." He grinned and blocked another jab, still using one hand. 

Padmé suppressed her annoyance. She knew he was teasing her, trying to distract her. She needed to end it quickly, before her fatigue caused her to make a mistake. But she could not summon the strength for an all-out attack. _Maybe I shouldn't have taken on both Rabé and Sabé this morning._

She pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face and tried to regulate her breathing. She noticed Anakin's eyes lingering on her bodysuit, made even clingier by her sweat. She blushed, suddenly acutely aware of how well the suit showed off her body. 

But she could use that to her advantage. She pulled her staff in to touch her body, just below her breasts. The movement drew his eyes, and in that split second, she rapped his other hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. 

Anakin's eyes widened as she attacked furiously. He jumped, spun and rolled, trying to avoid the kill point. She chased him around the mat, thrusting and swinging with the pugil stick. 

"Why don't you quit while you still have some dignity?" she teased. 

"No way! I'm not letting you win that easily!" He dove desperately for his weapon. When his fingers closed around it, he rolled and took a wild, one-handed swing at her legs. Padmé leaped to avoid the blow, but tripped when she landed, falling on her backside. 

"Whose dignity's at stake now?" Anakin asked with a smirk. 

Now it was her turn to dodge and spin. He forced her toward the edge of the circle. She parried his strikes from a deep crouch, mind racing as she considered her options. Very limited, it appeared. 

Then he shifted his stance and Padmé saw her chance. Quick as a flash, she rolled between his legs, then thrust her staff back through them as he turned. The weapon caught him across the ankles, taking his feet from under him. He fell flat on his back, his breath leaving him with a loud WHOOSH! 

Padmé was on him instantly, straddling his waist, her pugil stick pressed across his chest. "Pin!" she crowed triumphantly. She grinned down at him. "Focusing on the wrong things, Anakin? Or maybe your legs are just too damn long." 

Anakin looked utterly deflated. Defeated by a Force-blind slip of a Queen. The look was only momentary; his familiar rakish grin reappeared quickly. "You know, Padmé, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was say so. No need to go to all this trouble." 

She rolled her eyes and reached up to push a sweaty strand of hair from her face. In that instant, he knocked her pugil stick aside and rolled her over, stretching his body over hers and pinning her wrists to the mat. "Anakin!" she gasped. 

"I'd say my focus is where it needs to be," he said, his voice low, his face centimeters from hers. 

They stared at each other, brown eyes locked on blue. Anakin swallowed heavily and licked his suddenly dry lips. He felt her heart hammering against his chest, almost perfectly in time with his own. She was sweaty and panting, and he wanted nothing more than to… 

Padmé closed her eyes in defense against his proximity. She felt his warm breath on her face and the barest brush across her mouth, so faint she might have imagined it. _Just admit it. You're not fooling him or anyone else._ She opened her eyes. _Including yourself_. "Ani…let me up…please." It came out like a command. 

Stung by her tone, Anakin slowly pushed himself off her and stood up. He took her hand and drew her to her feet. "Sorry, Your Highness," he said nonchalantly. He tried to pull his hand away. 

_ Gods, I'm messing this up_, she thought as she saw his jaw tighten. "Please don't call me that, Ani." She clung to his hand, not wanting him to leave in anger. 

Anakin looked down at her uncertainly, then leaned toward her, closing his eyes. Padmé tipped her face up, waiting for him…_Love? So soon?_

Her eyes snapped open and she stepped back from him. "I…I'm sorry, Ani." She looked everywhere but at his face, not wanting to see the hurt she knew would be there. She tried to tug her hand from his. 

He gripped it tighter, closing his other hand around it as well, frustrated by her mixed signals. He could feel her attraction pulsing in his Force-sense, like a thing alive. "Padmé…don't you know that I can feel what you feel?" He caressed her fingers. "Why are you fighting it?" 

_ Why, indeed_… "It's more than just you and me, Anakin." She spoke in the low tones she used as Queen, trying to withdraw into Amidala's cool detachment. "I have my planet and my people to consider. I can't put anything ahead of them." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not even you." 

_ But you already did. When you went to Tatooine to get him and left Rabé to speak for Naboo_. She tried to free her hand again, but he clutched it harder. 

"I never did say 'Thank you' for that. For coming after me." He drew her closer, raising her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers. She shivered. "And I'm not asking you to. You've always kept them separate, Padmé and Amidala," he said. "Why can't Padmé Naberrie love Anakin Skywalker without sacrificing Queen Amidala's love for her people?" His eyes bored into hers. "What are you afraid of?" 

She stared back at him, her stomach twisting as his question hit home. How did he do that? Every time she thought she had herself under control, that she could bury these feelings for him, he found a way to weaken her resolve. _Too soon? You've known him for ten years; it's not like you just met…_

(What are you afraid of?) 

She hated to admit it, but she _was_ afraid – afraid of the intensity of these feelings. She couldn't evaluate them coolly, she couldn't deny them – they were just there. 

He placed her hand on his chest so that she could feel his pounding heartbeat. "Padmé, I—" 

She put a finger to his lips. _Please don't say it…_

_ **I love you**_**.**

The thought appeared in her mind, but it was not hers. Anakin's voice, intense, pleading, roiling with emotion. It was the first time she ever felt him in her mind, and it was odd, frightening - yet somehow entirely _right_. She knew they shared a special connection, they always had, but she felt shaken to the core as she suddenly realized its depth. 

"Oh, Ani." She touched his cheek. 

This time, she did not resist as he pulled her close, his eyes intense as always, but with a passion there she had not seen before. _Or has it always been there and I just refused to see it?_ The thought took flight as he pressed his lips to hers. 

They stood like that for several heartbeats. Then their arms tightened around each other and the kiss grew deeper, all their bottled-up feelings breaking free in one rush. Anakin's head swam, the Force sparking and tingling around him, his need for her only fueled by the embrace. Padmé molded her body against his, holding him closely. She wanted to crawl inside his skin. 

Finally they parted, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. Padmé took his hand and cradled it between her breasts, mirroring his earlier gesture. She touched her forehead to his. 

"Ani," she whispered breathlessly, "I—" 

"WHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWHooooooooooooooooooooo!!!" The shrill wolf-whistle cut through the room, interrupting the moment. Anakin and Padmé jerked apart, turning around to see the Queen's handmaidens standing in the doorway, applauding wildly. Sabé removed her fingers from her teeth and gave them a grin that could only be described as poodoo-eating. Rabé and Saché wore delighted smiles, while Yané and Eirtaé looked puzzled but pleased. 

Padmé buried her face in Anakin's chest, her cheeks burning. _I shall kill them all_. She wondered if she could reinstate Naboo's ancient laws calling for summary execution of those who offended a monarch. 

Anakin, however, had no problem with an audience. He grinned as he tipped Padmé's chin up for another kiss, pulling her tight against him as the enthusiastic cheers of the handmaidens echoed around them.   
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Chapter 15   
  


The two cloaked and hooded figures moved along the dimly lit streets, alert to the many dangers lurking in the shadows of the buildings. Like all cities, Coronet, the capital of Corellia, has its own seedy underbelly, where an adventurous soul could find all manners of entertainment and vice, no matter how sordid and deviant. Or where a careless one could meet death in a squalid alley over a few measly credits. 

They hurried along, passing all-night cantinas with drunken patrons staggering in and out, and windowless storefronts that advertised "Live Nude Females – All Species!" in flashing lights. Illicit vendors hawked everything from stolen jewelry to packets of spice. Finally, the tallest of the pair stopped in front of a nondescript building. The small sign on the door read "Drax'a'no's Emporium" in neat, handwritten script. 

"All right, this the place," he said to his companion. He shooed away a streetwalker of indeterminate species and pushed the door open. The acrid smells of illegal hallucinogens wafted over them as they stepped in, mixing queasily with the aromas of fried food, alcohol fumes, and body odor. No one took notice of them; they were just two more beings seeking food, drink, or debauchery to help pass their night. They shouldered their way to the bar and claimed two stools. 

"Didn't know that Jedi Knights frequented places like this," said Jahn Elluis, peering from beneath the hood of his dark blue cloak, a touch of amusement in his voice. "I always figured you more for fancy receptions and fine whiskey between missions fighting injustice." 

Obi-Wan's voice, equally amused, came from under the dark brown hood. "Even the most beautiful ladies and exquisite food can become tiresome after a while. Occasionally one must…reconnect…with the baser elements of life, just to maintain a sense of perspective." He gestured to the Duros bartender, holding up two fingers and pointing to a bottle of Corellian whiskey. 

"Well, I'd say this is about as close to the bottom as you can get," Jahn said, swiveling his stool to take in the menagerie of life-forms represented in the saloon. He considered himself rather worldly and well traveled for a man his age, but nothing had prepared him for this scene. It took great effort not to gape at the amazing variety of beings, all united by the desire to get drunk and/or laid. He turned back to the bar to find a glass with about three fingers of whiskey in it waiting for him. He took a quick swallow. "So who's this friend of yours again?" 

"Actually, he was a _friend_ of my Master's, to use the word loosely. One of his 'pathetic life-forms,' as I used to refer to them." Obi-Wan smiled wryly as he took a sip of his drink. "Kieg Keik, one of the best slicers in the business. He comes here to gamble." 

"Gamble?" Jahn's eyes swept over the room. "I don't see any tables." He followed the Jedi's gaze to an unmarked door at the top of the back stairs. "Up there?" 

Obi-Wan nodded. "Unlicensed tables. No limits. High-stakes sabacc mostly, with some dice and sports betting. Corellia's licensed establishments have betting limits to make sure that no one loses their shirt. The cash limits also keep the syndicates out. But there are plenty of places like this, cash only, very high stakes." He took another drink. "You'll find people back there ranging from low-life spice dealers to high-ranking Corellian government officials. I'm sure Kieg is playing cards – it's about the only thing he does besides slicing. And the slicing affords him the luxury of gambling – as long as he's playing well." 

"So how do we get up there?" Jahn asked. "I'm sure they don't let just anyone in." 

"No, they don't." Obi-Wan downed the rest of his drink and signaled to the bartender. The tall Duros came quickly and bent down when the Jedi beckoned. Obi-Wan spoke to him softly. The Duros flinched back and shook his head. Obi-Wan took a small pouch from his cloak and dropped it on the bar, then spoke again, this time accenting his point with a small gesture. The bartender nodded and jerked his head toward the stairs. Obi-Wan tossed a coin on the counter and got up. Jahn quickly swallowed his whiskey and followed him. 

"I thought he was gonna put up a bigger fuss than that," Jahn whispered as they ascended the steps. "What did you say to him?" 

"The Force can have a great influence on the weak-minded. I merely suggested that we needed to see the gaming tables." 

Jahn pursed his lips. He admired Obi-Wan: the man was a great warrior and interesting company, and he had saved Jahn from the depths of bureaucratic hell. But Jedi mysticism baffled him and Obi-Wan's cryptic answers to his questions didn't help. He wondered if all Jedi were like him. _And he has an apprentice even younger than me. I wonder what he's like._

The Duros bartender nodded and spoke quietly to a very large human who suddenly appeared outside the door to the gaming room. The man gave them a quick once-over, then opened the door and waved them in. 

The room looked much as Obi-Wan had said. A few sabacc tables were scattered about, with a dice table in the center, and a row of holo-screens offered odds on every sport from podracing to bare-knuckles boxing. A blue haze of smoke from cheroots and other burning intoxicants drifted through the air. 

The dice table bristled with action, surrounded by variety of creatures cheering on a Toydarian who appeared to be on a winning streak. He flitted and bounced in the air like a hyperactive glowbug, shaking the dice in his hands and imploring them for the lucky numbers. He tossed and the group roared, drowning out the call of the croupier. 

"Back there," Obi-Wan said, indicating the sabacc table in the back corner. They wove their way through the gamblers and waitresses, stopping a few meters away to observe the game. Four players sat around the table – two humans, a Deveronian, and a Sullustan. Their general appearances indicated a fair amount of wealth. 

Jahn whistled softly through his teeth at the sight of the sabacc pot – there had to be at least a million credits' worth of chips and coins piled in the center of the table. And the hand pot didn't look much smaller. "High stakes, all right," he whispered. "I won't earn that much money in my whole life." 

"A small pot, compared to some around here," said Obi-Wan. "We'll need to get Kieg out of here to talk. That won't be easy, so just follow my lead." 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and concentrated on Keik's hand. He was playing the Light Hand, with no ranked or face cards. He held an eight of Coins, a ten of Coins, and a two of Staves, for twenty. Not a bad hand, if he held pat. Not likely, though. Keik never played the odds. 

"I will call your bet," murmured the Devaronian, "and raise you one hundred thousand." He pushed a stack of coins into the center of the table. 

Eyes flashed nervously around the table. "Does anyone want to call the game?" asked the Sullustan. 

"I'll call," said the one of the humans, a dark-skinned man with long braided hair. The players laid their cards out. Only one hand beat Keik's at the moment, and Keik gestured to the dealer droid for another card. The mechanical arms squeaked as it dealt the new card. The gambler touched it to reveal the three of Flasks. Twenty-three – sabacc. The pot was Keik's. 

Obi-Wan watched the slicer gather his winnings, then stepped closer and cleared his throat. "I see you still don't pay much attention to the odds, Kieg." 

The Sullustan turned in his seat, his large dark eyes widening further at the sight of the two hooded figures. Obi-Wan frowned as he picked up on the fear radiating from the small, rodent-like creature. 

"You said I had until next week!" Keik hissed quietly, his jowls quivering. "I'll get your money, I swear!" 

Obi-Wan pushed his hood back. "Relax, Kieg. I'm not here to collect a debt – at least, not that one." 

The Sullustan stared at him for several minutes before recognition slowly dawned. "Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan Kenobi?" He snuffled in the Sullustan version of a chuckle. "I didn't recognize you without your long tail!" He gestured to where Obi-Wan's Padawan braid once hung. "Did you know that that you have a baby Wookie sleeping on your face?" 

Obi-Wan scratched his beard self-consciously. "Very funny. We need to talk business, Kieg. Let's go someplace else." 

Keik spread his arms, an attempt at an expansive gesture that somehow didn't work. "I'd love to reminisce, Obi-Wan, but I have affairs to attend to right here." He turned to gather his winnings into a leather pouch. 

Obi-Wan shot a look at the other players at the table. They weren't much interested the exchange. He bent low and placed his hand firmly on Keik's shoulder. "Take a break. I insist," he said with a touch of menace in his voice. 

"You don't frighten me, Kenobi," the slicer said scornfully. "You Jedi are too noble to hurt even a lowlife like myself." 

"Perhaps. But my friend here is not a Jedi. And he has no such scruples." Obi-Wan nodded at Elluis, who pushed back his cloak to reveal a holstered blaster. Then, almost too quick to follow, Jahn pulled a knife from his boot and held it up in front of Keik's face, twisting it slowly in his fingers. Obi-Wan glanced around. No one had even noticed – Elluis moved too fast and used his body to block sight of the weapon. 

Keik's eyes widened and he swallowed. "Your point is well taken. I could use a drink."   
  


A few minutes later, they were back at the bar. "A spiced ale," Keik told the bartender. "Put it on his tab." He jerked his head at Obi-Wan. The bartender served up a large mug. The Sullustan wrapped both hands around it and drank deeply. 

"So, Obi-Wan," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "where is Qui-Gon? It's not like him to let you wander off unsupervised." 

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "He was killed on a mission. About ten years ago." 

"Oh. Sorry." The slicer's tone said that he was anything but. He took another large swallow. 

"I'll bet you are," said the Jedi sardonically. "But I've come to collect for him, Kieg. Finish your drink. I have a job for you." 

"Who says I need a job?" Keik asked with bravado that he did not really feel. When he had last seen Obi-Wan, the Jedi was a baby-faced twenty year-old who trailed obediently behind his tall, intimidating Master. The man in front of him now had a hard edge to him, a glint in his sea-blue eyes that frightened Keik a bit. His companion, though young and earnest looking, had sharp and watchful green eyes that constantly scanned his surroundings. 

Obi-Wan laughed humorlessly. "Come now, Kieg. When you first saw us upstairs, I thought you might soil yourself. You've overextended your resources again, haven't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "How much do you owe this time? And to whom?" 

Keik deflated. "Four million. To a local loan shark. I was on a lucky streak and I borrowed heavily to keep it going. One bad hand…" 

Obi-Wan chuckled. "That's all it takes, isn't it? Well, good, then. You _do_ need a job." He patted Keik on the back. "And just to show you that my heart is in the right place, I'll even pay you. Debt to the Jedi notwithstanding. With what you won tonight, you might even live to be another year older." 

"What do you mean, 'debt to the Jedi?'" demanded Keik. "I owed Qui-Gon. And I don't think he'll be collecting." 

Obi-Wan leaned over until he was almost nose to nose with the creature. "Listen to me, you sniveling scum," he said menacingly. "I seem to remember a pathetic life-form clinging to my Master's leg, crying with gratitude and babbling about how if the Jedi ever needed anything, just come and find him." He leaned back and spread his hands apart. "Of course, I could just tell old Drax'a'no how you sliced into his dealer droid programs to 'fix' them." 

The Sullustan's large black eyes got even larger as they darted back and forth between the two men. Obi-Wan watched him with a slight smile, while Jahn stared at him coldly, twirling his stiletto unobtrusively between his fingers. Keik gulped as he realized the weapon was not a vibroknife, but a metalloid one with a razor-sharp edge. His mind raced, but he saw no way out. Whatever 'job' the Jedi had for him had to be preferable to Drax'a'no finding out that Keik had been slicing his dealer droids. 

"No need for that, Friend Wookie-Face," Keik said with his snuffling laugh. "I am more than willing to assist the noble Jedi. For a reasonable fee, of course." 

"Of course," murmured Jahn. The slicer eyed him nervously. Jahn smiled and twirled his knife again. 

"Uh…Obi-Wan? Could you call off your rancor, please?" 

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. He nodded at Elluis. The stiletto disappeared as quickly as it had come out. "Let's go, Kieg," he said. "We can discuss the particulars elsewhere."   
  


The trio moved along the streets, heading quickly away from the bar. Keik babbled incessantly about gambling, slicing, gambling, women, gambling, drinking, and gambling. Obi-Wan ignored him, concentrating instead on the other presences he felt. The Sullustan had not been overly discreet about his winnings, and several rough-looking characters stared at them covetously as they left the bar. 

"Be mindful," he said to Jahn. "There is a group up ahead waiting for us. I believe they intend to try to relieve Kieg of his winnings." 

Jahn scanned ahead, but didn't see anything. He said as much. 

"They're between the buildings, back in the shadows. About two blocks ahead." 

Jahn nodded. He'd seen enough of the Jedi's strange abilities to trust what Obi-Wan said, even if he didn't understand them. He figured they weren't too much different from combat instincts, just more acute. He pushed his hood back and opened his cloak for easier access to his blaster. 

They continued on, walking three or four blocks without incident, and Jahn wondered if Obi-Wan might have been mistaken this time. He was about to comment on it when he heard the whine of a blaster. Obi-Wan's lightsaber deflected the bolt away from them, into the side of a building. Jahn jerked his blaster from his holster and fired into the alley. A high-pitched scream told him he'd found his mark. 

Obi-Wan and Elluis stood to either side of Keik as figures emerged from the shadows. A large group, at least eight of them, mostly human or humanoid. They circled around the trio, brandishing weapons that ranged from blasters to vibroblades. 

"C'mon, womprat," the largest of the group, a human man with stringy blond hair, addressed Keik. "You know what we want. Hand it over." 

Keik's large dark eyes blinked spastically. He shook his head and clutched his leather pouch tighter to his chest, looking to Obi-Wan for help. Obi-Wan deactivated his saber and hooked it on his belt. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said. "This little one is hardly worth your time. If you will move on down the street, there are much riper pickings. And we can avoid an unpleasant confrontation." 

"It'll only be unpleasant for you," Blondie said. "In case you haven't noticed, the odds are eight to one." He raised his blaster and fired. 

Obi-Wan's lightsaber leaped to life again, turning the shot harmlessly away. The other hoodlums opened fire as well, and Obi-Wan's saber flashed as he deflected shot after shot. Jahn tackled Keik, pressing the slicer against a wall and crouching over him. He raised his blaster, ready to help Obi-Wan, who didn't really appear to need any. Laser bolts were blocked, weapons jerked away, and assailants sent flying. The ones left standing considered the better part of valor. They turned and fled. 

Obi-Wan powered off his saber and walked over as Jahn hauled Keik to his feet. "I feel about as useful as teats on a bull bantha when I see you use that lightsaber," the young man complained. 

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You did your part – you got Kieg out of the way. His life's not completely worthless, though he often tries to disprove that." He straightened his cloak. "But we'll need to move quickly. You killed one of our attackers when you fired into the alley, and it will soon get around that Kieg here has a Jedi protecting him. It will make our task difficult to complete." 

Jahn nodded thoughtfully. "And the police will investigate the killing – doesn't matter that it was some scumbag – especially if they hear that a Jedi was involved. You know how the Corellians are about outsider influences. That will draw unnecessary attention." He shook his head. "I screwed up – sorry." 

"You acted on instinct. I can't fault you for that." As the words came out, he thought, _But I would have reprimanded Anakin if he had acted that aggressively._ He frowned, tempted to shrug off the uncomfortable realization. Anakin was a Jedi; the expectations were different. But Jahn was a soldier – he could no more go around killing civilians, no matter how deserving they were, than a Jedi could. So why was he willing accept behavior in one that he wouldn't tolerate in the other? _Needs of the mission_, he told himself. 

"All right, Kieg," he said, "let's get going. Take us to whatever squalid hole you're calling home these days." 

"W…w…why to my home?" the Sullustan stammered, clutching his leather pouch tightly. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "To get your slicing equipment, of course. Why else would I need you?" He smacked the slicer on the back of the head. "Lead on."   
  


Obi-Wan and Elluis walked casually down the sterile, gleaming hallways of the Corellian Engineering Corporation's main corporate offices. Their crisp gray coveralls designated them as members of Housekeeping Services. Obi-Wan pushed a disposal cart in front of him, still bit chagrined by the whole idea. Jedi Knight as janitor – it didn't quite fit the serene, dignified image he'd always tried to cultivate. But he had grudgingly conceded Keik's point – custodial personnel had access to every part of CEC's sprawling headquarters, and their presence wouldn't even be noticed. He wondered again about the corporation's use of humans to do jobs that any other company would have droids to do. Like most other major manufacturing concerns, CEC used some assembly droids on their factory floors. But in all other areas where droids would normally be utilized – Security, Housekeeping, and Administration – the company used humans. Obi-Wan wondered what the company's shareholders thought about that. The Corellians' general dislike for droids notwithstanding, the practice did not make good financial sense. _Well, it certainly serves our purposes in this case._

The top of the cart lifted and Keik's large black eyes blinked at him. "Are we there yet?" he whined. "It's getting cramped in here." 

"Quiet," Obi-Wan ordered. "This was your idea, remember?" He slapped his hand on the lid of the cart, knocking the Sullustan back down. There was a short, muffled protest, then silence. Jahn's earlier reconnaissance of the headquarters building yielded the information that CEC custodians worked in pairs, on a set schedule, and were all human, making it necessary to conceal Keik in the cart, along with his equipment. Jahn had also managed to 'procure' two sets of coveralls from an unlocked storage room. When asked about access to the building, Keik had just snuffled quietly, disappeared into his bedroom, and returned less than ten minutes later with three CEC access badges, complete with holos. 

Keik's badge turned out to be unnecessary, as they found the disposal cart left outside one of the employee entrances. Jahn had stuffed the protesting Sullustan and his equipment into it, then he and Obi-Wan headed for the Custodial Assignments Office, where a heavy-set, bored-looking woman handed them a datapad without bothering to look up from her tabloid. Obi-Wan had noted with some dismay that the gossip journalists were still feeding on the Prince Organa/Queen Amidala story. He wondered briefly how Anakin had reacted to the story, if he even knew about it. _Probably badly_. 

The Force seemed to be with them, though. Scrolling through the list of jobs on the datapad, Obi-Wan found that they had been assigned the Central Processing Room of the Accounting and Finance Division. No one would think twice about monetary records being accessed from there. 

They reached their destination at the end of the hallway. Obi-Wan punched in the access code he found on the job list and the door slid open silently. They wheeled the cart into the room, and Jahn activated the "Scheduled Cleaning" display for the outer door. They shouldn't have any visitors at this time of night, but it was better to play it safe. Human security guards, unlike droids, were susceptible to boredom and could be prone to relieving it by making rounds off-schedule. 

Obi-Wan opened the cart and hauled Keik out, then retrieved his equipment. The slicer's protest about his ride was cut short by Jahn's cool green stare and surreptitious pat of his coverall leg pocket. Then he became all business, casting a professional gaze at the assorted terminals before choosing one. He pointed it out to Obi-Wan, who carried his equipment to it, while Jahn took position by the door. 

"Why this one?" Obi-Wan asked, as Keik rooted around the unlocked desk. 

"It's out in the open, not even a privacy screen," Keik said. "Probably a secretary's desk, or some sort of administrative person. Low-level access, not much security." Keik found what he was looking for stuck to the underside of the desk. "And not very vigilant." His jowls quivered with amusement as he held up the scrap of flimsy - the desk owner's computer ID and password. 

As soon as the slicer had accessed the system, Obi-Wan handed him a data card. "I need the financials for all these projects. CEC is not the primary contractor for all of them, but they may have subcontracts for some of them, so search for them all. I want everything – raw material costs, inventory, work-in-progress, overhead, labor, shipping…" 

"Understood," replied Keik. He reached into his equipment case and retrieved what appeared to be a data card, except that this card had a thin cable attached to it. The other end of the cable ran into a sleek silver box, which, when opened, revealed a state-of-the-art decrypt/decipherer currently available only at the highest levels of Republic Intelligence. His other gear included an equally top-of-the-line random number analyzer and a pair of dataminers. He connected his own keyboard to the terminal, and his short, stubby fingers flashed across it, tapping commands at an astounding speed. Obi-Wan started to inquire about the obvious expense and quality of Keik's toys, but then thought better of it. There were some things he just didn't need to know. 

Once the slicer was deep within the bowels of CEC's computer system, Obi-Wan took Jahn's place by the door, stretching out with his Jedi senses to see if anything was amiss. So far, so good. Jahn broke out the cleaning supplies and went to work on the room, making sure that the handgrip of his blaster was visible to Keik. Obi-Wan smiled in amusement – the Sullustan's fear of the young Scout was palpable. He would scurry down the nearest available bolt-hole as soon as Obi-Wan let him go.   
  


"All right, Obi-Wan, I have it," Keik called. 

Obi-Wan made one more quick check through the Force. No one around. A pair of security guards had paused by the door some fifteen minutes earlier. They had checked the posted cleaning schedule and moved on, satisfied that things were as they should be. Obi-Wan strode over to Keik's terminal and peered over his shoulder. Jahn joined him a moment later, having finished cleaning the room. 

"CEC is the primary contractor on about one-fourth of these projects, all large-scale starships," Keik began. Obi-Wan grunted. No surprise there – the Corellian flare for starship design was almost unsurpassed. "They're involved in subcontract work for about half of the remaining jobs. Stardrive and astrogation subsystems, it appears." The small slicer jumped quickly between screens. "Here are the bills of materials and payrolls for the last three orders delivered." 

Obi-Wan scrolled through the documents, the enormity of the task settling heavily on his shoulders. There were literally millions of components, ranging from small bulbs to kilometer-long hull plating sections. He had some rudimentary knowledge of finance and how banks moved and handled money, but he was lost here. He had no idea where to start. "I'm not really sure what I'm looking at," he finally admitted. 

Jahn studied the screen. "Kieg, these are the company's internal bills of materials and payroll records, right?" A nod from the slicer. "Can you retrieve the records for the actual claims submitted to the Republic for payment?" 

"A moment." Keik communed with the computer again. "Here they are." 

"Split the display, Kieg," Jahn ordered. He tapped the screen with his index finger. "Look. On this side, you have the company's internal bill of materials for this project…Republic Cruiser. Probably used by the manufacturing, inventory control, planning, and engineering departments, sections, whatever they call them here. On this side, you have the costs submitted to Republic Naval Procurements Division for payment. See the difference?" 

"No," Obi-Wan said after a moment. 

"Okay, so we dig a little deeper." Jahn reached for the keyboard, then looked at Keik. "May I?" The slicer nodded quickly. Jahn searched the document, looking for a frame of reference. If the small common items were inflated, then he would bet that the big, unique ones were grossly so. He found what he was looking for and magnified the print. "Check these items." 

Obi-Wan perused the list. Bulbs for glowlamps, rivets, hydrospanners, lubricants, 'fresher seats…common items. But at uncommon costs. The Jedi's eyes widened slightly as he read. Bulbs, normally half a credit at most, cost the Republic Navy fifteen credits each. A full credit each for rivets. _How many of those on a Republic Cruiser?_ Two hundred credits apiece for hydrospanners. Three hundred credits each for 'fresher seats. "Outrageous," he murmured. He knew cost overruns were part of the defense contract business, but never thought that they could be so flagrantly fraudulent. 

"Here's how it works," Jahn explains. "Someone here at CEC – the project manager, probably – procures these items from vendors at a hugely inflated price. When payment comes in from the Republic, the Disbursement, or Accounts Payable, or whatever, passes it on to the vendor. Then the project manager and his partner at the vendor company split the overpayment. This company is huge – the department sending out vendor payments has no idea what stuff costs, so they just pay the bills. And if the project manager is smart, his name's not on any of the documents authorizing purchases at the inflated prices." He jabbed his finger at the screen. "If CEC is charging the Republic that much for this little stuff, just imagine how much overcharge is for big, proprietary items." 

Obi-Wan nodded, impressed. "How do know all this, Jahn?" 

"My father's a building contractor. He does a lot of work for Aldera, and believe me, this stuff is nothing unusual. Especially with government contracts. Only the scale is different. As a rule, government auditors are overworked, underpaid, and a lot of times, just plain not interested." Or paid not to be interested, he didn't add. 

Kieg spoke up. "Your friend is right, Obi-Wan. But inflated purchasing is only part of it. That is split with a crooked vendor. But falsified payrolls stay right here. Look." His fingers danced over the keyboard. "Here we have labor charges submitted to the Republic for work on this cruiser. If I run these names and work numbers against employee rolls" – more keyboarding, then a pause while the dataminers went to work – "there are no matches." 

"Non-existent employees." 

"You catch on quick, Wookie-Face," Keik snuffled. 

Obi-Wan grinned at the Sullstan. "And you're not as stupid as you look, Kieg. Perhaps I won't let Elluis here use you for target practice after all. So how did you figure it out?" 

Keik looked smug. "Who do you think sets these things up?" he asked. "I know much more about CEC than they would like." 

_ Judge not by the surface, Padawan._ Keik might be a lowlife, a gambler and a drunkard, but he didn't get to be a skilled slicer by being stupid. _Industrial espionage_. Even legitimate companies sometimes stooped to the use of slicers to gain advantage over a rival – especially for large, lucrative contracts for which bidding was often fierce. He wondered how many times CEC had utilized Kiek's skills. Often enough to keep him on Corellia, apparently. 

"Hmm, I wonder what the CSU would think about this," Obi-Wan mused. The Corellian Shipbuilder's Union represented the laborers who worked for Corellia's various starship-building concerns. 

"The union?" Jahn asked. "They're probably in on it. The officers, anyway." 

Obi-Wan straightened. "All right, I've seen enough for now. Kieg, compress and transfer this information to data cards. And leave yourself a back door so you can access the system remotely. We've got a lot more work to do, and I prefer to do it from a place where we don't have to follow a schedule." 

Keik's black eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'a lot more work,' Obi-Wan?" he asked, sounding a bit panicked. 

The Jedi regarded him patiently. "Tomorrow, we will try to find out where the extra money is going. But for tonight – we still have a list of cleaning jobs that need to be completed."   
  


_ Tap-tap-tap…tap-tap-tap_. The constant pecking of the slicer's keyboard slowly eroded Obi-Wan's patience. He thought that he'd be used to by now, but the more he listened, the louder and more distracting it seemed to get. _Of course, part of it could be not having slept for the last forty-eight hours_. He gathered himself and tried for light meditation, afraid that anything more than that would drop him into a deep sleep. Keik's stamina amazed him – the Sullustan had been working nonstop at his terminal for the last thirty hours, with only short breaks for light meals. 

Jahn was sprawled out on one the hotel suite's large beds, exhausted from his own spate of activities. He had scoured obscure electronics shops in search of parts, delivered food to the suite to keep everyone going, and shaken down half of Coronet's red-light district in search of Keik's loan shark. The sleazy man now had his money, and a broken nose resulting from an attempt to extort interest payments from the young Scout. 

In spite of his fatigue, Obi-Wan was fairly pleased with their progress. Working from the dates of last payment pulled from CEC's databanks, Keik determined that the money went from CEC to three different banks in Coronet. It had taken him an entire day to worm his way into the banks' computers without alerting the security systems to his presence. He was now chasing the money as it bounced around the galaxy, splitting and spreading in an ever-widening web. _I hope we're not going through all this just to find the money lining the pockets of some crooked banker right here on Corellia_. Despite the brief misgiving, Obi-Wan's instincts told him they were on the right track. 

Despite his wishes, Obi-Wan's exhaustion pulled him deeper into his meditative trance. He wanted to finish this assignment and return to what he felt was his first duty – finding his Padawan. His ceaseless worry for Anakin was an underlying drain on him. He recalled the evening a few days, maybe a week or so before, when he thought he felt an echo, a faint plea…Reaching out for the first time since the reception at the Alderaan Legation, he called, _Anakin? Padawan, are you out there? Where are you?_ A small chance for contact at best, but given Anakin's power... 

Nothing. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and struggled back to awareness. He was just too tired to meditate without falling asleep or into a deep trance. He sorely missed Anakin's boundless energy, the kind that seemed to infuse everything and everyone around him. This was the longest he and his Padawan had ever been separated. _I wonder if he's still on Tatooine. Did he free his mother? Probably. Will she stay there? Ani will want her on Coruscant. The Council will LOVE that. Or maybe Padmé took them to Naboo. That would be better. Ani's mother could live there until Ani becomes a Knight. I wonder how he's doing. Is he keeping up his exercises? Is he still angry? Is something happening between him and Padmé? Does he miss me as much as I miss him?_ Obi-Wan recognized his mental babbling as a sure sign of fatigue. He would need some real sleep soon. 

He looked through the doorway at the snoring Elluis. He'd give him a few more hours, then wake him up to watch Keik while Obi-Wan took a nap. 

In the clarity sometimes achieved by the severely sleep-deprived, Obi-Wan realized that he had become accustomed to teaching, to having someone by his side to mentor. Anakin had left, and Jahn had fallen into his lap to fill the void. The young man was intuitive, tough, and as sharp as they came. It was a shame he wasn't Force-sensitive, though Obi-Wan suspected he had a higher-than-normal midi-chlorian count. The two had become fast friends. But Jahn wasn't Anakin – he couldn't fill the space of student, son, brother that Anakin occupied in his Master's heart. 

He stood and wandered over to peek over Keik's shoulder. He had a trace bouncing off some obscure savings and loan deep within the Corporate Sector. The suite's big desk was littered with cables, datacards, flimsies, food wrappers, and bottles. Obi-Wan eyed the empty bottles of kaf drink, wondering how big a role they played in the Sullustan's continued work frenzy. 

Looking for something to distract himself, he picked up a stack of flimsiplasts and idly flipped through them. They listed contracts and the details of their cost overruns. Suddenly one in particular jumped out at him. "Kieg, how long until you finish that one?" 

"Not sure," replied Keik, without looking up. "Soon, I hope. The paths are starting to converge again." 

"Do this one next," Obi-Wan instructed, placing the flimsy beside the terminal. 

Keik glanced at it. "That's not a very big one – only a few hundred million over." 

"Do it anyway." 

The slicer grunted and shrugged. "Whatever you say, Wookie-Face. But you know I can only get so much information. Account numbers, amounts being moved, wiring routes. Not much else. Banking is still ahead of us in encryption techniques. But not for long. I'm working very hard on it." 

"I'm sure you are," Obi-Wan said dryly. He could picture Keik already, slicing into people's bank accounts to feed his gambling, drinking, and whoring habits. "But if you'll take care of this" – he tapped the flimsiplast – "I will get it to someone who can do something useful with it." 

"Are you saying _I_ wouldn't use the money wisely?" Keik demanded. 

"Of course not. All reasonable beings think sabacc, whiskey, and prostitutes are worthy investments." 

************************* 

The Honorable Senator Letia Talador of Etti sipped her wine and gazed out over the gleaming spires of Coruscant. They glinted and sparkled in the glow of the early evening sunset. Many of her acquaintances from Etti found Coruscant too confining and crowded for their tastes, and avoided the capital world like a plague, but Talador found it vibrant and energizing. How could anyone not? The central seat of power in the galaxy pulsated with promise for those beings of vision and ambition. 

And Letia Talador, while not especially visionary, was ruthlessly ambitious. 

"Senator?" The smooth, sonorous voice of her dinner companion drew her attention back to the present. She gave the young man a charming smile, and he lifted her delicate hand from the tablecloth and pressed it to his lips. Though well into her fifties, the Senator still possessed singular beauty and poise. Her exotic combination of intensely black hair, pale blue skin and glittering silver eyes turned heads everywhere she went. She was renowned for her young, handsome lovers – and for the frequency with which they changed. 

And this one was exceptionally striking, in the view of the tabloid journalists assigned to watch the Senator this evening. Tall, with even, handsome features, golden eyes and hair of pure white worn in short spikes. The reporters watched as the young man smiled and fawned over his patron, desperately wishing they could hear his words, but at the same time grateful that this particular restaurant used audio privacy screens only. The visual privacy screens would block the spectacular view of the city for which the customers paid so much. 

"Is the equipment in place?" Talador asked, a coy smile flitting across her lips for the benefit of the news scavengers. 

"Professor Spaarti's technicians have everything set up. All they need to do is tap the power core and the facility will be operational. Etti will be well-positioned to provide for the Republic's needs when the Senate finally pulls its collective head out and calls for help." He paused and lowered the privacy screen as the waiter stopped by the table to offer the chef's specials. They ordered, and the server hustled away. Darth Nemesis noted with approval that this establishment employed humans only – at least in those capacities where they came in contact with customers. He reactivated the screen. "How is the mood in Government Center concerning our little project?" 

"Skeptical, for the most part, especially on the part of my Corporate counterparts. They see no profit in it – yet. They'll join soon enough when the amount of money at stake becomes apparent." She ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. "Alderaan is pushing hard for an expanded Republic military, but Bail Organa is currently hamstrung by the perception that Queen Amidala is leading him around by his male appendage." 

Nemesis chuckled. "Why, Senator, how crude. So, in your astute political assessment, we still have some time before the esteemed Congress of the Republic works itself into a panic?" 

Talador nodded. "But in the future, I would keep a close eye on two worlds – Caamas and Naboo. Both are pacifist and idealistic, with influential heads of government. Caamas is already making noise over Alderaan's proposals. Sio Bibble is a bantha's ass, but his Queen is a powerful personality. And she did, after all, put Palpatine in his seat." 

Nemesis smiled enigmatically. "Yes, I'm certain that's a fact that the young Queen will remain acutely aware of for a long time." 

The Senator raised an elegant eyebrow, but received no further elaboration. "And you are aware, are you not, that the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is still conducting an investigation into the source of the clones?" 

"I know the status and whereabouts of all Coruscant-based Jedi, Senator. Major – pardon me, I mean Colonel – Tarkin is most efficient." 

Senator Talador's eyes narrowed slightly. So the recently promoted Colonel Tarkin of the Supreme Chancellor's Office had thrown in with Nemesis and his master? Interesting…but then again, the skeletal Tarkin has always struck her as the ambitious type. She mentally filed the information away. "I would be interested to know how he accomplished this. Spying on Jedi cannot be easy." 

The Sith Lord lifted her hand to his lips again. She would be so easy to seduce…_Perhaps later_. Right now, he would play the game for the media and get what his master needed. "There is a young man in the Jedi Temple – Kenobi's apprentice, actually – who has an inordinate fascination with machines. Especially droids and any conveyances capable of insane speed. Tarkin merely arranged for this young man to stumble over a broken, out-of-production model of delivery droid. It is now in the Temple, fully functional, and privy to many interesting conversations." 

"Intriguing…but why bother? The Jedi support the Senate. And they stay carefully neutral in any bickering that we have amongst ourselves." 

"Perhaps. But they won't look kindly upon Sith influence anywhere, no matter how much they claim to crave balance. As soon as they find out we're involved – and they _will_ find out, sooner or later – their precious objectivity will tossed aside like so much garbage." He took a sip of his wine. "But back to your question. Yes, we are aware that Kenobi is pursuing the clones. He is on Corellia, no doubt looking for the source of financing. My master is not too terribly concerned with him at the moment." 

Talador leveled an appraising silver stare at him. "So the prospect of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith-Slayer, picking up your trail doesn't bother you at all?" 

Nemesis' icy glare threatened to stop her heart. "Be careful, Senator," he hissed. "You are not irreplaceable." He made a slight gesture, and Talador found it suddenly difficult to draw breath. He didn't apply enough pressure to make it obvious that she was in distress – too many people were watching them. Just enough to let her know he meant business. "And contrary to what you might think, not all of your compatriots are stupid. We have many allies in the Senate, many more powerful than you. Just less obviously so." He released her. She kept her composure admirably, only a brush of her hand across her throat indicating that anything had happened. He smiled charmingly at her, though the expression never reached his eyes. "As for Kenobi, I'm biding my time." 

He looked up as the waiter approached the table. "Ah, dinner." 

When the dishes were arranged and the waiter disappeared, Darth Nemesis lifted his wineglass and met the Senator's eyes. "Here's to success – and to the next infusion of cash needed to keep our plan in motion." 

Senator Talador barely controlled a shiver as she raised her glass to tap his. Had she gotten in over her head with this handsome Sith and his sinister master? _No_, she told herself firmly, _they are merely tools to use in reaching your goals_. She smiled for the media bloodsuckers. _And you always get what you want._   
__   
__


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Padmé entered the main room of her chambers, Yané trailing close behind. Both women were disheveled from their workout. "…worry about it, Yané. You'll get there. Besides, you're still better than me with the epee. Last time we did that, I don't think I got more than one touch on you."

Sabé, casually dressed in a loose green tunic and leggings, looked up from her position on the couch, where she was drinking coffee and scrolling through the morning news. "What's wrong?"

"Padmé beat me soundly in a saber match this morning. Again." The handmaiden sounded dejected.

"Don't whine, Yané. Padmé whips all of us with the saber," Sabé reminded her, rolling her eyes. "It's not like it's an unusual occurrence."

"Yes, but she absolutely killed me this time," Yané complained, flopping down in a chair and wiping her face with a towel. "I didn't score even one point. I think working with Anakin has made her better."

"No, I think you all just got soft while I was gone," Sabé said acerbically. "It's time Panaka and I set up another training session. And some one-on-one for you, Yané. I've been watching you since we got back. You haven't been practicing, and it shows. Your skills are slipping."

Seeing Yané's stricken look, Padmé patted her on the shoulder and suggested, "Maybe you should ask Anakin to help you. With all the lightsaber training he's had, he could probably give you some pointers."

"Maybe I will," said Yané, with a red-faced glance at Sabé. "But right now I need a shower. Saché and I are going into the Market this morning." She got up and padded off to her room. Sabé rolled her eyes again. Padmé put her hands on her hips and looked down at her.

"Sabé, was that really necessary?"

"What?"

"The way you treated her! She feels bad enough – I really stomped her this morning. And she's right about my sparring with Anakin. It has made me better. I think she knows she's slipping. There was no need to kick her while she was down."

Sabé's eyes flashed as she stood up. "Your Highness, part of my job is to ensure that your handmaidens operate smoothly as a unit. We're only as strong as our weakest person. Yané's been here ten years, just like everyone else. She knows what the expectations are. She's a great medic – no question there. But our primary function is your protection, and she cannot continually allow her combat skills to slide when I'm not around to nag her about it."

The two women stared at each other for a moment. Then Padmé said, "I'm not telling you how to do your job, Sabé – I'll leave that to Panaka." The handmaiden gave a small snort. "But you made a mistake, and I'm wondering if you've seen it yet."

Sabé stared at her a bit longer, then said, "I should not have dressed her down in front of you. It was unnecessarily humiliating for her. I should have taken her aside, or waited until later."

Padmé spread her arms and smiled brilliantly. "Very good! I'll have to tell Panaka that he's wrong – you _can_ be taught!" She laughed at Sabé's scowl. "And I meant it about having Anakin help her," she said as she sat down at the vanity. She took her hair down and shook it out. "Speaking of Anakin, have you seen him this morning?"

Sabé shook her head. "Last time I saw him was right before dinner last night. He and Ric were talking about swoop bikes and starfighters." She walked over and leaned against the wall next to the vanity. "Pilots! You'd think they were talking about women, the way they were carrying on" she said acidly. "Wild hand gestures, bragging about thrust and armament, and generally comparing the size of their cannons."

Padmé's laughed. "My, my, aren't we grumpy this morning. And to think it's your day off. I, on the other hand, have an incredible amount of paper work to go through today, but I thought Ani and I might have lunch in my office."

"I'll see if I can find him." Sabé eyed Padmé with a speculative gaze. The Queen was staring off into space with the vacant, dreamy expression that Sabé had become so familiar with recently. The handmaiden rubbed her palms together. Time for some fun. "So…are you sleeping with him yet?"

Padmé jerked to face her. "Am I what?!"

Sabé grinned. "Sleeping with him. You know…the beast with two backs. Knocking boots. The horizontal mambo. F--"

Padmé cut her off with a glare, wondering where her handmaiden had learned all those colorful terms. Too much time spent with soldiers, probably. "Sabé, I swear you have a death wish!"

"Is that a no?" More glaring. "Too bad – he has a very attractive build."

Padmé picked up her brush and went to work on her tangled curls. "And how do you know?" she asked tartly.

"Oh, come on, Padmé. I've seen him working out in the ballroom. The boy never wears a shirt. And his pants fit _very_ well. He puts on a good show with his lightsaber and remotes. I think every breathing female in the Palace finds an excuse to be in that area in the mornings."

"Including you, apparently."

Sabé shrugged. "You never said I couldn't look. I enjoy the scenery as much as the next woman."

Padmé grinned. "I guess so, considering how often it changes in your bedroom. Come to think of it, there hasn't been _any_ scenery in there at all for awhile. Hmm, is that why you've been so tetchy lately?"

"I am not 'tetchy.' Senator Bibble is 'tetchy.' I am merely short-tempered due to job stress. I can't help it if other people make mistakes and I have to yell at them. Someone has to keep the Queen from robbing the Jedi Temple Crèche and settling down to become a dirt farmer on some misbegotten asteroid. And we're talking about your sex life – or lack thereof – not mine. Besides, variety is the spice of life." 

"If you think Anakin's so hot, why don't _you_ sleep with him?"

"Because I _don't_ have a death wish." Sabé smirked. "And don't look at me that way. You know good and well you'd gut any woman who tried. Anyway," she continued, "when you're around, the rest of the universe doesn't even exist for him." She leered at her Queen. "You didn't answer my original question."

Padmé blushed. "Sabé, that is none of your business."

Sabé crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. "I beg to differ, _Your Highness_. As your personal bodyguard, I need to know if anyone else shares your bedroom. The better to protect you." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "And that way I'll know whether or not to come bursting in if I hear you screaming in middle of the night." She laughed and ducked as Padmé's hairbrush shot by her ear and bounced off the wall. "Padmé, if your face gets any redder, your head might explode."

Outside in the hallway, Royal Guardsmen turned to see Sabé scramble quickly from the Royal Chambers and run down the hall in search of Anakin, a colorful string of Nubé swear words following in her wake. _He needs to start dealing with her now_, the handmaiden decided_. Anakin's going to have to learn to say "Yes,Dear" an awful lot if he plans on any type of future with Padmé_.

The object of Sabé's search bent low over the handlebars of the speederbike, the grassy, rolling land of the Theed plains flashing by at over four hundred kilometers per hour, just a meter below his feet. The wind ripped through his hair and slapped at his face, triggering an adrenaline rush that both soothed and invigorated him at the same time. Anakin Skywalker had always found a strange sort of peace in the insane speeds avoided by more sensible beings.

He half-closed his eyes and relaxed as he melded further into the bike, the handlebars becoming an extension of his hands, the thrusters part of his feet, until, in his mind, there was no separation between man and machine. He felt the vibration of every rivet, every slip and bump of the bike as its power reverberated from the engine up though the frame and into his body. 

He felt, rather then saw, his approach to the edge of the plains, where the grasslands gave way to the dense wet growth of the swamps. The abode of the Gungans. He slowed not a bit as he shot through the trees, the speederbike dipping and weaving as it responded to its rider's subtle instructions. Swamp creatures scattered before him, and he squinted against the tiny bits of soil and water droplets kicked up by their movements.

Out of nowhere, two massive tree trunks, probably fallen to the Trade Federation's droid armies, swelled up in his path. Anakin threw the bike into a barrel roll as he skimmed between and below them, bark dust exploding in the wake of the close encounter. He felt a moment of pure, intense joy – the exhilaration of a brush with death, of having faced the peril and emerged victorious.

Anakin always felt his connection with the Force most strongly though action – sparring, flying, racing – rather than through the quiet meditation that most Jedi preferred. His seemingly insatiable quest – no, _need_ – for speed and danger was a way of reaching his quiet center without having to dwell on the failures that haunted his dreams at night. And on top of the failures, his growing sense of unease about his capacity for control over himself and his fate.

Anakin opened his eyes fully, as he became aware that he had slowed almost to a complete halt. He was deep in the swamp, the canopy of the trees so thick that the sunlight barely penetrated it. The speederbike drifted over the watery ground as Anakin wrestled with the familiarity of this spot. Bits of masonry and stonework jutted from the mire. As the steps and platforms of the ancient temple rose from the marsh, it clicked. The Gungan Sacred Place.

Anakin guided the bike to a halt at the base of a massive stone head whose eyes gazed sightlessly into the mists. He dismounted and after a brief contemplation of the statue, began climbing. He ascended rapidly, finding easy hand- and footholds in the cracks of the rock. The view was no better from the top; massive trees and dense foliage obscured all but the immediate area.

(_I_ am Queen Amidala)

Just one more surprise in a journey full of unwelcome ones. He'd left Tatooine so full of dreams – Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, returns to his homeworld in glory to free the slaves and rescue his mother, then flies off with the beautiful handmaiden Padmé Naberrie to become the first man in the galaxy to see every star. But in the real universe, the not-quite Jedi Knight returned to find his home in ruins and his mother brutally murdered. The only thing remaining was the handmaiden-cum-Queen. Would she agree to see the stars with him? 

Anakin lay back against the cool stone, exhausted by the incredible emotional highs and lows of the past few weeks. His thoughts floated out away from him, the Force pulling at his unconscious, guiding him away from the present…

_"Anakin!" it screamed. "Ani, help me!" He pushed his legs harder, but they felt heavier and heavier as he drew closer to the voice. "Hurry, Ani, hurry!" it urged him._

He burst into a gutted building, straining to see in the semi-darkness. "Ani," the voice came again, weaker this time. He lit his saber, throwing its light across the room. A figure lay on the floor, its hands outstretched. "Ani…"

"Mom!" he heard himself scream. He started to run her, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back. He jerked desperately against the unseen force, but was unable to break free. Turning, he saw a figure cloaked in Jedi robes, its face hidden in the shadows of the hood, its hand clutching his cloak in an iron grip. "Let me go!" Anakin cried. He screamed as crushing pain enveloped his torso. Finally, he slipped out of his Jedi cloak, leaving it hanging in the fist of the mysterious Jedi. High-pitched, cackling laughter echoed around him as he ran to his mother, only to have her disappear in front of his eyes. He threw back his head and howled, "Noooooooo!"

He jerked back, fists clenching and unclenching_. Couldn't get there, couldn't get there, couldn't get there fast enough_. Grief and self-loathing burned within. _Unworthy, inadequate_. The tiny voice harangued on and on.

(The boy is dangerous.)

The tears that threatened to surface were pushed back by a new voice. _Holding me back, holding me back. Afraid of me, of what I might do_. Anger and resentment swelled. Everything returned with painful clarity – the contempt of the Council, the resentment of Obi-Wan, and the insults small and large from his ostracizing peers, neither asked for nor deserved. Every indignity between the sight of his mother, standing tall and unbowed by bondage, watching her son walk out her life and the helpless feeling of despair as he held her for the last time, unable to save her.

Feeling the pressure like a rising floodtide, Anakin threw himself open to the Force and let it run with his unbridled emotions. He heard himself scream as it battered and buffeted him like a gale-force wind. Then he felt himself falling, hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thump. His teeth clacked together and he tasted blood.

He spat red, then gingerly ran his injured tongue across the back of his teeth. He hissed with the sting, but it served to pull him completely back into himself. He sat up and looked around. _Oh, gods_…

Anakin's storm had cleared the Gungan Sacred Place as thoroughly and efficiently as a Trade Federation tank. Trees lay horizontal, their massive root systems ripped clean from the ground to tower half as high as the trees themselves. The tall saw grass was scorched down to the ground, and nothing remained at all of the collapsing masonry of the ancient temple. Anakin realized then that he had not fallen from his perch. The massive stonework had crumbled to dust beneath him.

__

Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate…The unimaginable power of the Chosen One had manifested itself through his darkest emotions. And he couldn't control it. But through his fear of himself and what he might be capable of, Anakin felt a glimmer of satisfaction and a slight sense of awe. 

Anakin stood and dusted himself off. Miraculously, the speederbike had survived the storm unscathed. He regarded it thoughtfully. _Now how did I manage that?_ Not really in the mood to analyze anything concerning the storm, he threw his leg over the bike and powered it up. Minutes later he was scorching the grasslands on his way back to Theed.

Padmé slouched over her desk, taking a moment's respite in what she knew was very un-Queenly posture. _I swear, when you leave two datacards alone on a desk for a few minutes, they reproduce like mad. They need chaperones_. She sifted through the cards. A request for funding to study the effects of roaming herds of kaadu on the ecology of the grasslands. A cost/benefit analysis on a proposal to increase the number of allowed tourist permits each year. The projected budget for the next phase of the Theed/Otoh Gunga connection. She sat back and rubbed her temples. 

"Oh!" She jumped as a pair of large hands settled on her shoulders and began to massage them. She tilted her head back and looked up into Anakin's smiling face. "Anakin! I didn't hear you come in."

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "You wouldn't have noticed if a stampeding herd of kaadu came through here," he said. His thumbs kneaded her neck and shoulders. "You're awfully tense."

"Mmmm." She leaned her head back against him and closed her eyes, enjoying his ministrations. "You would be too, if you had to wade through all this bureaucratic double-speak."

He eyed the messy desktop. "Looks like you've still got a long way to go."

"Yes, well, I was just thinking that you can't leave two datacards unsupervised, or they will quickly become many more datacards." Her eyes opened as something occurred to her. "How'd you get in here, anyway? Eirtaé didn't announce you."

"Through there." He pointed to the private balcony entrance, the one that allowed her to come and go without passing the ever-present mob of lobbyists and favor-seekers outside in the main hallway.

Padmé frowned. "But you still would have had to pass a guard. And he should've told Eirtaé. Ooh!" She flinched as his fingers probed a particularly sore spot.

Anakin leaned down close. "You need a break. You're way too wound up." His warm breath tickled her ear, and she could only nod wordlessly. "I thought we might go eat lunch. I found a great place. Very quiet, not crowded at all."

She looked at him, taking in the wide grin and clear blue eyes dancing in anticipation. She swallowed, reminded of the bright, bouncing boy eager to show her his droid and his podracer. Her protests about needing to finish her work died on her lips. Other than sparring, they hadn't been able to catch much time together, rarely alone and with only the opportunity for a quick hug and kiss. A quiet meal with just the two of them sounded very appealing to her. She stood up. "So where we going? Some new place you've found in Theed?"

He gave her a sly smile. "No, it's a little place right outside of Theed. Very casual." He inspected her. She wore her hair loose over her shoulders, held back from her face by a thin gold band. Her dress was a simple gold gown identical to those her handmaidens were wearing. "You're overdressed. Perhaps you should go to your chambers and change into something more functional." 

Padmé stared at him in confusion for a moment, then went to the built-in wall cabinets on one side of her office and rooted around inside. She came out with a faded blue tunic, a pair of black trousers, and sturdy boots. She held them up for Anakin's perusal. "Is this casual enough?"

"Perfect," he said with a grin. He stood by her desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with an expectant smile.

After a minute or two, she realized what he was waiting for. "Uh-uh, Jedi-Boy. Outside." She jerked her head toward the private entrance. He put on a good show of feigned disappointment and stepped out through the open door. She quickly stripped the dress off over her head and changed into the tunic and trousers. The chime on her personal comm system sounded, and she hopped over to it on one foot, pulling a boot onto the other one.

She flopped ungracefully into the chair and keyed for the call. _Shavit!_ she thought as a tiny hologram of Bail Organa formed on the console. She quickly switched to the audio-only transmitter. "Hello, Bail. What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Amidala," the holo said smoothly. "I took the chance that you might be in. The last time we spoke on Coruscant, you did not seem to be quite yourself."

__

You have NO idea. "My apologies, Bail. I had a lot of things on my mind. I still do, as a matter of fact." _Like the tall, good-looking Jedi waiting on my balcony_.

"I understand. You have very diverse issues competing for your limited time." Bail paused, seeming a bit embarrassed. "May I ask why you're not using the vid?"

"I…I'm not presentable, Bail. It's not a normal workday. You just happened to catch me in my office."

"If you mean you're not wearing the Court makeup, then you're hardly unpresentable." He added softly, "And I'd like to see you without it."

"You will, eventually," she said, not really sure why she said it, only thinking that it was true. "Just not now."

Anakin paced on the balcony. How long could it take just to change clothes? It wasn't like she was wearing one of her elaborate Court gowns. The handmaiden's dress didn't appear to have any complicated fastenings. He could probably undo it for her. Yes, he could unfasten it and push it off her shoulders, running his hands over her smooth skin…_Down,boy!_

He heard her voice drift from the office. Who was she talking to? He poked his head back inside and saw her sitting at the comm terminal. She had changed clothes. He stepped inside and heard a man's voice. After a few minutes, he identified it: Prince Bail Organa. His jealousy spiked. Why was she talking to him? He eased a little closer.

"…and those are the high points. The Republic already has the command and control elements in place. I view it more as an expansion, with obligations placed on member worlds according to the abilities to support it. Each member is, of course, free to maintain its own forces."

Padmé rubbed her temples. "I don't know, Bail. I like the idea in theory, and Naboo would of course meet its obligation. But the conscription issue could be sticky for us. And I do not believe we should make demands on worlds whose cultures abhor war and violence in any form."

"And those are legitimate issues that will need to be addressed." Bail laughed. "There's really no telling what the bill will end up looking like once every grandstanding senator and special-interest group has had their say." He fidgeted a bit, his nervousness evident even through the Holonet. "So, Amidala…have you given any more thought to my other…more personal…proposal?"

Anakin's ears pricked up. What was this? A queasy feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach. He could think of only one kind of personal proposal. He was torn between his desire to hear the answer and wanting to flee immediately to avoid it.

"It was very sweet and thoughtful of you, Bail," Padmé said. "I am very fond of you and I would be inclined to consider it favorably—"

That was all Anakin could stand. He escaped onto the balcony.

"—but I can't. I don't love you in that way."

Bail's shoulders sagged a bit. "Well…Would you consider it a little longer? It would be a great alliance for our worlds, and perhaps the love would develop…over time?"

Padmé felt bad, knowing she had hurt him. "Bail, I'm an elected Queen, not a hereditary one. An alliance between our worlds based on marriage would be void if I left office. Naboo still seeks partnership with Alderaan, but it needs to be based on firmer footing. As for love…"

"There's someone else," he finished. She nodded, forgetting that he could not see her. 

Anakin leaned on the wall and took deep breaths, touching the Force lightly to try and control his nausea. With all that had transpired between him and Padmé, he had completely forgotten about Bail Organa. He thought back to the night at the Alderaan Legation on Coruscant, when he had seen them together, sensed the affection flowing between them, and felt as if his heart had been ripped out.

If she planned on marrying Organa, what was she doing with him? Stringing him along? Having fun with her little Jedi plaything until the real prince came along_? That's unfair. If she were being deceitful, I'd know it. No, her feelings for me are plain._ Or were they? She kissed him, she hugged him, she held him, he could feel her affection and attraction for him, but she had yet to utter the words he wanted to hear, he needed to hear. 

He heard a step behind him and turned to see Padmé emerge from her office. She met his eyes and smiled, and he thought his heart might stop. Even in the plain faded tunic and loose trousers, she was breathtaking. He regarded her dumbly.

She cocked her head to one side, her loose hair swinging with the motion. "Are we ready?"

"Uh…yeah." He turned and grabbed the rucksack from its spot by the door, hoisting it up onto his back.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Lunch."

"But I thought we were—"

"Going to a restaurant? I just said I found a great place. I didn't say it was an eating establishment." He favored her with a lop-sided grin, trying to recapture the earlier mood. "You assume too much, Your Highness."

Sometime in the last few minutes, since she kicked him out to change, something had been lost. Anakin's enthusiasm had mostly vanished. His grin seemed a bit forced and his eyes no longer held their anticipation. He looked…scared. Confused. "Well, let's go then," she said, turning back to her office.

He grabbed her arm. "No. Not that way."

Padmé shrugged. "Okay, we'll go out the back way. I just need to tell Eirtaé."

He tugged her arm again. "No. Don't tell her. And we're going this way." He walked to the waist-high wall and peered down at the sheer cliff marking the northern edge of the Palace.

"Are you crazy, Ani? Do you know how far a drop that is?"

"Don't know. Don't care." A genuine grin this time. "Come on, Your Highness, live a little. You're an adult. No need to tell your babysitter where you are all the time."

Padmé bit back a retort. She walked over to the wall and looked at the gut-wrenching drop. "Okay, so how are we going to get wherever it is that we're going?"

Anakin pulled a blaster from the holster of the Naboo pilot's uniform he was wearing and fitted an attachment to it. Padmé had become so accustomed to seeing him in the uniform that she hadn't noticed that he was actually carrying a weapon. But she recognized the attachment immediately.

"An ascension gun. So that's how you got past the guard. Are we climbing the walls, Ani?" She was humoring him, but at the same time feeling a bit adventurous, like a teenager sneaking out after curfew.

"Close," he replied. He fired the grapple line. The claw fingers bit into the stone of a ledge two stories above them. "Come on." He pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're going to have to hold on with your legs around too. I need two hands to control this thing." He lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Their eyes met, their noses almost touching as they pressed close together. Padmé's cheeks flushed and a thrill ran through her as she felt his body's reaction to her nearness. Then he pulled his gaze away and activated the ascension mechanism, towing them up over the wall. He then reversed it, lowering them rapidly down the side of the Palace and out over the face of the cliff.

"Ani! Where are we going? I thought we were going up!" 

He said nothing, just continued to lower them past the tumbling waterfall, finally stopping on a small outcropping. He set her down and retrieved the grappling line. "Come on." He took her hand and led her along the small ledge toward the falls. 

Padmé looked up the cliff face at the Palace looming above them. She had never seen it from this angle before. She had only been on the cliff itself a few times, and that was farther west, along the more established climbing spots. For security reasons, climbers were forbidden on the cliffs below the Palace.

Anakin was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the falls. This was one of the smaller falls, but it was no less breathtaking up close. The sun shone through the spraying mists, sending rainbows dancing through the air around it. The tiny droplets clung to their hair and clothing as they eased behind the curtain of water. There the cliff face opened up into a tunnel. Anakin pulled a glowrod from his belt and led her further into the cave.

Padmé clung to Anakin's hand and tried to push back her nervousness. The cliffs beneath Theed were riddled with tunnels and caves, not all of which were explored. The passages leading into the Palace were marked and sealed off against intruders, but there were literally thousands of kilometers of others forming a labyrinth under the city.

They walked for about fifteen minutes before Anakin stopped. "Watch," he said. He switched off his glowrod.

Padmé's eyes widened in wonder as the tunnel gleamed with its own natural light. Thousands of tiny points of light shone from the walls and ceiling, bathing them in a soft phosphorescent glow. She stepped closer and touched the lights. They felt smooth and velvety under her fingers. "What are they?"

"Some kind of plant life. Lichens of some sort, maybe." He pulled a few from the wall. "They seem to draw energy from the rock. They fade out quickly when pulled off." As they watched, the pieces in his palm dimmed and winked out.

"They're beautiful," Padmé said. She looked up at Anakin. The gentle radiance of the light-plants gave his face an ethereal cast. _And so are you_. She reached for his cheek, but he pulled away.

"Let's get going," he said abruptly. "We've still got a ways to go." He set off down the tunnel, not looking back.

She stared after him, stung by his brusqueness. Then she started after him. He set a fast pace, his long legs eating up the ground. She practically had to run to keep up.

__

What's wrong with him? One moment, he was eager and excited, a boy wanting to show off his new discoveries. The next, he was reserved, his eyes stormy and distant.

They walked on, the silence between them weighing down like a physical thing. Padmé kept her eyes locked on his back, trying to sort through her thoughts. Just when she thought she had her feelings for him figured out, that she could open up to him, he closed himself off. Why was she drawn to him? What was the source of their connection to one another? Sure, there was a physical attraction – a very strong one. But they had a deeper underlying bond that she was hard-pressed to explain. She felt every doubt, every pain, every joy that reflected in his eyes, and when she touched him, she shared it with him.

They settled into a rhythm, Anakin walking a few paces ahead of her. He didn't seem to want her beside him. Every time she pulled up next to him, he quickened his step a bit. Finally she gave up, unable to sustain the pace without running. Her mind drifted, and she found her eyes continually roaming over him, transfixed by the easy grace of his stride. She admired the way his pants fit, and fleetingly wondered what he looked like without them… _Easy, girl!_

She could just hear it now: _Your Highness, why are you staring at me like that? No real reason, Anakin; just wondering if you would take your clothes off for me_. She shook her head as if to physically clear the thoughts away.

It gradually became lighter inside the tunnel, and Padmé could make out the opening up ahead. She squinted against the bright sunlight as they passed outside.

Anakin spread his arms and turned in a circle. "So, Your Highness, what do you think?"

Padmé looked around. They stood on a large outcropping, almost like a plateau jutting from the cliff. Large trees reached up toward the sky, their leafy branches dappling the sunlight over the soft grass. A small creek meandered through the center, traversing the plateau before tumbling over the edge to form another small waterfall. The rugged land at the base of the cliffs stretched endlessly below them, and when she looked off to the east, she saw the Palace in the distance, standing majestically over the city. She realized that they had traveled almost all the way to the other side of Theed.

"It's beautiful, Ani. Well worth the walk." She turned to him, smiling broadly. He gave her a little half-smile that faded quickly, then dropped his rucksack at the base of a tree and started to rummage through it.

"So glad you approve, Your Highness," he said.

Padmé moved to his side and touched his shoulder. He jumped away as if burned. She saw that his eyes were no longer blue, but had darkened to the gray of an impending storm. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her stonily.

"Anakin, what's wrong?" she asked, hurt and confused by his behavior. She went to put her arms around him, but he backed away.

"Please don't play games with me, Your Highness," he said coldly.

"Don't call me that," she answered automatically. "What do you mean, play games with you?"

"How long were you planning on stringing me along before you told me?"

"_What_ are you talking about?" 

"But I guess that's the prerogative of royalty – to have someone to keep you amused while you wait for someone more suitable, more worthy of your attention," he said bitterly. "So what were you going to do – wait until the night before your wedding to say, 'It's been fun, but now it's time to get on with my life?'"

"What wedding? What are you talking about?"

Anakin got in her face. "Don't play dumb with me, Your Highness! I heard you talking to Prince Organa. Were you ever going to tell me about his 'personal proposal?' And I heard your answer." He flawlessly mimicked Queen Amidala's voice. " 'I am very fond of you and I would be inclined to consider it favorably.' "

Padmé stiffened and her eyes narrowed dangerously. She unconsciously dropped her voice into the Queen's regal tones. "The discussions I have with other planetary leaders are hardly any of your business," she said frostily. "If you are going to be rude enough to eavesdrop on private conversations, Jedi Skywalker, you might do well to listen to them in their entirety before you jump to ill-conceived conclusions."

She turned on her heel and strode toward the creek. Sitting down on the bank, she tugged off her boots and socks and thrust her feet into the frigid water. _How dare he listen to my private communications! Then jump to wild conclusions without even having the courage to confront me about it!_

Her toes went numb as she swirled her feet around, but it served to cool her ire. She couldn't believe Anakin's rash assumptions. _How could he think that about me after all that's passed between us?_ She bit her lip and blinked back tears. She would not allow herself to become emotional about this. _Perhaps I've invested too much emotion already._

Anakin watched her from a few meters away, his self-righteous anger fading into doubt as he saw the slump of her shoulders. He felt her anger and indignation mingling with her hurt at his harsh words. But he sensed no guilt on her part, none of the evasion that would be expected if she was deceiving him. _I missed something._

Swallowing his pride, he went to the creek and sat down beside her. She didn't look at him; she just stared off into the distance, her face expressionless, the Queen's mask in place once more. Doffing his own boots and socks, he lowered his feet into the water, wincing at the cold. They sat in silence for a few minutes, stealing occasional glances at each other.

"Um…Padmé?" 

She turned her cool brown gaze on him. "Yes, Anakin?"

He forced himself not to cringe. "Uh…can I…what did you…may I ask about the rest of your conversation with the Viceroy?"

She regarded him for a moment. "I don't know, Anakin. Honestly, I never expected this sort of sanctimonious nonsense from you. After everything that has passed between us, I can't believe that you didn't have the courage to ask about it at the time, instead of treating me as shabbily as you have."

He flushed at the rebuke, but his eyes held hers steadily. "Please…"

Padmé considered it for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Yes, I am very fond of Bail Organa. He is good friend and a powerful ally. He proposed to me when we were on Coruscant. I said then that I would think about it. I told him today that I would be inclined to consider it favorably - " her lips twitched in a smile as she realized Anakin was holding his breath – "but I don't love him in that way. And I won't seek alliance with Alderaan through marriage."

She continued, "As the Queen, I have had many suitors. Bail's was the only proposal I ever took seriously." She smiled slightly. "At least, I took it seriously until you blew back into my life like a Tatooine sandstorm." 

Anakin let out a sigh of relief and then hung his head. "I'm sorry, Padmé."

Padmé took his chin in her hand and turned his face toward her. "Anakin, my position brings into contact with a large variety of people, many of them attractive, powerful men like Bail Organa. You cannot react this way to all of them or you'll drive us both insane." She looked into his eyes. "I don't understand why you're so insecure. I know you can sense my emotions. Surely you knew how I felt."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. She stiffened slightly. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he whispered in her ear. "I was wrong. You didn't deserve that." He hugged her tightly. "Can you forgive me?"

She relaxed in his arms and leaned against him. "I suppose I can," she said with feigned reluctance. He kissed her temple, then buried his face in her hair, luxuriating in its silky softness and clean scent. Padmé placed her hands over his, lacing their fingers together.

She rested against him, eyes closed. How did he manage to do this to her? She'd been so angry with him and rightfully so, but with a simple apology, he'd drained her fury and twisted her emotions completely around again. She became acutely aware of him, the gentle strength of his arms, the rise and fall of his chest, and the thump of his heartbeat. His breath, warm on her neck, sent shivers of expectation down her spine. _I belong here_.

She turned to kiss his cheek. He shifted and caught her mouth instead, meaning to give her quick peck. But their lips lingered, and the kiss quickly became more urgent as their simmering emotions bubbled to the surface. Anakin dragged her across his lap, his mouth fierce on hers, surprised at the intensity of his feelings. He couldn't get enough of her. He trailed tiny kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her pulse jumped beneath his lips. Padmé tipped her head back and a small moan escaped. She wound her fingers through his hair as he returned to her lips.

Anakin's hands wandered up and down her back. He felt her body heat through her thin tunic and just had to touch her bare skin. He slipped his hands under the garment, his fingers raising chill bumps on her warm skin as they traveled up her spine. Padmé pressed closer to him, and his touch grew bolder.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily. Her face was flushed. Anakin sensed her uncertainty battling with her desire, which rolled through his Force-sense in powerful waves. He swallowed and stroked her cheek gently. "Padmé, we don't have to--"

She shook her head and put her finger to his lips, the indecision in her eyes resolving quickly. "Make love to me, Ani."

After a second's surprise, he stood up, pulling her into a passionate kiss, crushing her mouth, his hands everywhere. Behind them, the blanket he had packed for their picnic lifted from his rucksack and spread itself over the grass. 

As he guided her down onto the blanket and covered her body with his, Padmé wondered fleetingly if she should inform Sabé of their change in status. Then that thought was banished, along with all others, as Anakin kissed her again and they loved each other beneath Naboo's warm afternoon sun.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sabé sat beneath a tree in a remote section of the Palace Gardens, her back against the trunk, legs stretched out in front of her, an open book in her lap. Despite her regard for technology, especially in weaponry, she preferred printed books to datareaders and cards. Particularly old books with soft leather covers and slight musty scents.

As she was marveling over a day off that was actually spent doing nothing but reading and relaxing, she heard someone calling her name. A woman's voice. After listening a minute, she identified it: Eirtaé. 

The voice drew nearer, and Sabé stuck her arm out from behind the tree and waved it. "Over here, Eirtaé," she called, wondering what kind of dire emergency needed her attention now. _This better be good_, she thought darkly.

Eirtaé came around the tree, puffing and clutching the skirts of her gold gown. Her hood had fallen back and her normally perfect blonde hair was a bit untidy. "Oh, Sabé, thank goodness!"

Sabé impaled her with an irritated brown stare. "What is it?"

"I can't find the Queen!"

Sabé stared in disbelief. _I will not maim her_. "Eirtaé, I swear you couldn't find your rear end with both hands and a map," she said. "Have you checked the office? She said she had a mountain of paperwork to do today."

"That's just it, Sabé!" Eirtaé said, ignoring the insult. "I was attending in the outer office. Rabé brought her some lunch, but she didn't respond to the intercom. So we went in, and she was gone!"

"Maybe she went out through her private door."

Eirtaé shook her head. "She would have had to pass the guard, and he said that he hadn't seen her or anyone else today. She wasn't finished with her work – her desk still had datacards scattered all over it. And the dress she was wearing is still in the office!"

Sabé had a bad moment as she pictured a naked Queen Amidala wandering the streets of Theed. Then she composed herself. "Okay, calm down. You know she usually keeps a change of clothes in the office. Maybe she changed and slipped past the guard. I'll have a word with him about that. She's probably with Anakin. Have you seen him?"

"No, but I haven't looked. And she should have told me if she was leaving."

"Eirtaé, if you were sneaking off to see your man, would you tell someone whose duty it was to follow you everywhere?" Sabé asked rhetorically. "Try his room, though I doubt they're there. Most likely, he's in the main hangar, up to his elbows in grease. Even if she's not with him, he might know where she went. And check all her haunts in the Gardens; she's around somewhere."

Eirtaé chewed her lip nervously. "Sabé, I'm worried. Even when she wants time alone, she lets someone know where she's going. And she's not responding to her comlink. I can't believe I lost her. Panaka's going to kill me."

Sabé suppressed a sigh of annoyance. "Look, Eirtaé, you didn't _lose_ her. Padmé's a grown woman who's well aware of her responsibilities. She's not going to just wander off somewhere. She's probably just trying to catch some time alone with Anakin. And don't worry about Panaka. I won't let him kill you." _Too much_. Sabé returned to her book.

Realizing she would get no more help from that quarter, Eirtaé gathered up her skirts and steeled herself for a search of the entire Palace. Hopefully, she would find the Queen before Captain Panaka realized she was missing.

Sabé watched her go. As much as she hated to admit it, Eirtaé was right. Padmé was not prone to roaming without letting someone know where she was going, if for no other reason than to keep Panaka and her handmaidens from going crazy. But starting with chasing Anakin off to Tatooine, Padmé had become more unpredictable, her moods shifting constantly, and Sabé had no doubts about the cause. She was very fond of Anakin and knew that he genuinely loved Padmé, but she feared his sometimes-reckless behavior was rubbing off on her Queen.

She sighed and snapped her book shut. It was only a matter of time before Panaka discovered what was happening, and Sabé knew very well who would be held responsible. She slowly got to her feet and followed Eirtaé back toward the Palace.

**********************

Anakin adjusted the blanket around them, then propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at the woman sleeping next to him. She lay on her side, back to him, her head pillowed on one arm. Her dark hair pooled around her neck and shoulders. A few chestnut strands had fallen across her face, and he gently brushed them back behind her ear. _I could spend the rest of my life just watching her sleep_. He ran his fingertips across her bare shoulder, then followed them with his lips, enjoying the smooth softness of her skin.

He closed his eyes and reached out, feeling the resounding thrums of the Living Force as it swirled about him. The trees, the brook, the soil, the insects, all the living things around him sang out, filling him with their energy and soothing his mind. In the midst of it all, Padmé's warm presence glowed. Vibrant and jeweled, it resonated with his, and more than anything else around him, seemed to complete him. How could he ever have doubted her? His throat tightened as he drank in her beauty.

His fingers traveled down to touch the wooden charm that lay nestled against her chest. When he had taken her tunic off and seen it hanging around her neck on its thin gold chain, he'd been struck dumb, hardly able to believe that she still even had it, much less that she would actually wear it. It was just a snippet of Tatooine japor, valuable only to slaves. Hardly the kind of jewelry a Queen would adorn herself with. 

Anakin turned the charm over in his hand, running his fingers over the smooth wood and intricate patterns. She had kept the japor snippet, and the boy who gave it to her, close to her heart. Had it brought her good fortune? He leaned over and kissed her cheek. 

Padmé stirred, then rolled onto her back, her eyes blinking open. "Mmmm…" she mumbled. "Was I asleep?"

"No, ma'am," Anakin replied with a grin. "You were comatose."

She stretched luxuriously. "What did you expect? You wore me out." She reached up and wrapped his Padawan braid around her fingers, smiling slyly and wondering if he caught the meaning of the action. His amused smile spoke volumes. She tugged on the braid, pulling him down for a kiss. "As a matter of fact, I thought you were trying to kill me."

"No, I was merely obeying a Royal command," he said. He lowered his head in a mock bow. "May it please Your Highness…and I hope it did!"

"Oh, it did," she said softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. 

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each finger in turn before pressing his lips against the pulse at her wrist. He gazed into her brown eyes. It would be so easy to fall into them and get lost. He released her hand and touched her face, tracing the winged arches of her eyebrows and running his fingers along her cheek and under her chin.

"Padmé, I'm so sorry for my behavior earlier. I should have known better. You've been the bright spot of my universe ever since I met you. I love you, more than you could ever know." He curled a strand of her hair around his fingers. "I was so afraid you would go away from me, that you'd want to be with someone else. Someone more worthy of you than a Jedi Padawan and former slave." 

Padmé kissed him, wondering about his mercurial moods. In the last few hours, he had jumped from eager to angry to regretful to passionate to teasing to loving to insecure, his emotions changing in swift, unexpected surges that left her feeling giddy and exhausted at the same time. And they all played out on his face like grand drama. He had none of the serenity that she had come to associate with the Jedi. But, she admitted to herself, it was part of what made him so attractive and exciting. 

"Ani, where is all this self-doubt coming from?" she asked. "When it comes to fighting, flying and all the active aspects of your life, your confidence is unbounded. But when it comes to your personal relationships, you seem to think that you're not worthy of anyone. I don't think you realize how much the people in your life care about you." She ran her thumb over his lips. "There's no one I'd rather be with." 

Then she grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "At least, not anyone who gives better workouts." She reached down and slapped his bottom.

"And what would your handmaidens think if you gave up defense training for tumbling exercises with me?" His hand traced lazy patterns on her skin.

She considered the question as her fingers teased across his chest. "Well, Sabé would grumble a lot and have a typically sarcastic and embarrassing comment – several, probably – but considering the way she's nagged me, I think she'd be pleased. Rabé and Saché would both swoon. They're hopeless romantics. Saché would ask all kinds of questions and press for all the intimate details, while Rabé would just smile. Eirtaé would think it terribly unseemly, but never say a word. Yané would be completely oblivious."

"Hmmm. I think you need to arrange for Yané to be your bodyguard. I don't think I could stand any more interruptions from Sabé." He was already mentally plotting his revenge on the sharp-tongued bodyguard for her other intrusions. 

But right now, there were more pressing matters to deal with. "So…" he said, his voice husky, his lips hovering right over hers. "Are you ready for another workout?" His hand strayed over her.

"Don't you think we should eat lunch? After all, that's what we came out here for."

His mouth was warm on hers. "My appetite's changed," he mumbled around his kisses.

Padmé closed her eyes as he pulled her against him, his lips moving down her neck. It was so tempting to just lose herself in his touch, to pretend that nothing else existed beyond this outcropping... 

She pushed against his chest, reluctantly breaking away from him. "I think we'd better get back, Ani." 

"Not yet…" He bent to her throat again.

"Ani…" she moaned, her desire warring mightily with her better judgement. "Ani, this isn't a good idea."

He stopped abruptly, raising his head to look at her. "Do you think making love was a mistake?" he asked tightly. "Are you regretting it already?"

"No, no, Ani, of course not!" she protested, giving him a quick kiss_._ His eyes had gone gray again, and she shivered at their intensity. _It's just that we're not married, you're nineteen, you're a Jedi, and I'm afraid I'll never have another coherent thought if we do it again. And if we start, I won't want to stop._ "It just that…well, we've been gone for a while and I don't want Panaka calling out the troops." 

His expression hardened briefly at the flimsy excuse. Then he relaxed and smiled. "I suppose you're right. And I definitely don't want anyone else seeing you like this." He kissed her thoroughly, as if to remind her what she was missing. When she groaned and started to respond, he pulled away, then sat up and reached for their clothes. "Especially Panaka and a bunch of soldiers."

She took her clothing from him, a bit breathless. _How does he do that?_ "It would not be pretty if the story got out. I can just picture the tabloid headlines now. 'Queen Amidala Found Bare-Naked on Theed Cliffs with Jedi Padawan.' " She giggled as she put her tunic and trousers on. " 'Soldiers Make Fortune Selling Holovids of Royal Encounter.' "

"Hey, now that's an idea!" said Anakin as he pulled his pants on. "Maybe we should make holovids."

"You try to make holos of us, Anakin Skywalker, and your bedroom will be a very lonely place indeed." She yanked his braid.

"Ow! My bedroom doesn't have enough light, anyway." He smiled slyly. "How about _your_ bedroom?"

"Out of the question. My bedroom is surrounded by handmaidens."

"So we invite them, too. Say, now that really sounds like fun – ow! What was that for?"

**************************

The large passenger liner came to a smooth landing in Docking Bay Forty-Nine of the Theed commercial spaceport. Obi-Wan and Elluis hefted their small bags and joined the flow of travelers debarking the vessel. They made their way through Customs and out into the streets of Theed.

They briefly considered hailing a taxi, but decided to walk after being cooped up in the spacecraft for a couple of days. They strolled through the city, Obi-Wan pointing out some of the more interesting attractions.

"This is a beautiful planet," Jahn said. "I'm surprised it doesn't get more visitors."

"The Naboo are a peaceful, introspective people who have long preferred to stay somewhat isolated from the rest of the galaxy," said Obi-Wan. "Queen Amidala has worked hard to bring them more into the community of worlds without destroying what makes the planet unique. The number of sightseer permits is carefully controlled to prevent rampant overdevelopment and the influx of the less desirable elements that often come along with tourists."

Jahn grinned. "Of course, as an Alderaani, I'm very interested in seeing the Queen. According to every gossip rag in the galaxy, she's going to bring Prince Organa's glorious days as a bachelor to an end soon. She must be something special to make him give up all that."

Obi-Wan didn't answer.

They reached the gate to the Palace gardens and made their way through the public section to the courtyard entrance. Obi-Wan pulled out the Naboo Royal Crest that Queen Amidala had given him long ago, signifying that he and anyone with him were to be treated as her personal guests. He showed it to the harried-looking Guardsman, who waved them through.

Jahn's eyes widened a bit as he stepped through the gate. The scene in the courtyard was chaos. Troops scrambled everywhere, and officers barked orders into their comlinks. In the middle of it all, a casually dressed young woman was berating one of the soldiers, her finger wagging in the face of the much larger man. "What the…" he started. "What's going on?"

Obi-Wan grinned at him. "Come on."

They headed for the young woman, walking up just in time to hear, "…not an explanation, it's an excuse! And it's unacceptable, Corporal. There's more to being a Guardsman than standing around in a uniform, turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Once she's found, consider yourself confined to quarters until Captain Panaka decides what to do with you! Dismissed!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" The Guardsman about-faced and scrambled away as fast as he could manage.

Jahn gaped. He thought he'd been chewed out by some of the best, but this delicate-looking woman could put them to shame. He glanced over at Obi-Wan and saw him trying to control his laughter.

"Sabé," the Jedi said.

The woman whirled around. "What?!" she snapped. Then she threw her arms into the air. "Great! Just what I need! Another Jedi stirring things up around here! And, gods, you've dragged in another stray!" 

Jahn tried not to squirm as Sabé inspected him, fighting the urge to smooth the tunic of his gray Republic Army uniform. 

"Well, at least he's not a Jedi," she said acidly. "Thanks for small favors."

Obi-Wan chuckled, but quickly stifled it when Sabé glared ice shards at him. "Good to see you again too, Sabé." He gestured at the activity. "What's going on?"

She took a deep breath and visibly calmed herself. "The Queen is missing. She disappeared from her office several hours ago and no one can find her. Panaka has worked himself into a state and is blaming me. She's not in any of her usual getaway places, and I suspect she's left the grounds." She glowered at Obi-Wan. "With your apprentice. No one's seen him either."

"If she's with Anakin, I'm sure she's safe," Obi-Wan said.

Sabé gave them a strange look. "It's not her safety I'm worried about."

"Can we help?" Obi-Wan offered.

Sabé rolled her eyes. "Spare me any more 'help' from the Jedi. Or their tagalongs," she added with a glance at Jahn. "I've got enough problems as it is." 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and raised his chin, actions that Jahn had come to associate with the Jedi's use of his mysterious powers. Sure enough, when Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he said, "They're here in the Gardens. Near the fountain. At least Anakin is."

Sabé stared at him for a second. Then her comlink beeped, and she dug it from her pocket. "Yes?"

A female voice came through the link. "Sabé, we've found them. We're by the fountain."

"All right, Eirtaé. Thank you." Sabé shot them an unreadable look, then turned on her heel and walked away.

Jahn watched her, dumbfounded. "Charming girl," he said at last.

Obi-Wan grinned. "Oh, Sabé grows on you after a while." 

The younger man snorted. "Like fungus, I'll bet."

They followed the handmaiden through the Gardens. A woman in a gold hooded dress met Sabé and pointed to the large fountain. Jahn looked around for the Queen, but all he saw was a slim, dark-haired woman dressed in a washed-out tunic, holding hands with a tall man in a uniform. The pair looked a bit disheveled, and Sabé was giving them a decidedly suspicious look. Jahn's first thought was, _She's almost as pretty as Sabé - I wonder if they're sisters. _His second was, _Where the hell did that come from?_

The tall man was watching them through narrowed eyes, his face an angry mask. He was younger than Jahn had thought at first glance. Then he saw the thin braid dangling from behind the young man's right ear_. That's Anakin_, he realized. _Obi-Wan's apprentice_. He studied the young Jedi more closely.

"Hello, Padawan." Obi-Wan offered his hand.

"Obi-Wan." Anakin's greeting was cool, and he did not take the proffered hand or make any other gesture. Instead, he clung tighter to the dark-haired woman's hand and stared stonily at his master.

Jahn felt tense as the two Jedi locked eyes for a moment. Then Obi-Wan broke away and smiled at the woman. "Your Highness," he said with a bow. "It is good to see you again. May I present First Lieutenant Jahn Elluis of the Republic Scouts?"

Jahn started. This small, slender woman was the Queen of Naboo? Recovering quickly, he took her free hand and bowed over it. "It is an honor, Your Highness." He felt the strength of her personality as her cool brown eyes assessed him.

She evidently approved, for she smiled brilliantly. "The honor is mine, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Elluis has been assisting me with my investigation into the source of the clone warriors, Your Highness." Obi-Wan explained. "We have turned up some information that you might find interesting." He looked pointedly at Anakin. "It seems we have much to discuss."

"I don't think so," Anakin said coldly. He freed his hand from the Queen's and turned away, striding quickly across the Gardens toward the Palace. He broke into a run as he mounted the stairs and disappeared inside.

Obi-Wan watched him go, a slight frown creasing his forehead. He turned when the Queen tugged on his arm.

"We do have much to discuss, Obi-Wan," she said. "Let us go to my office." She turned to Sabé. "Please take Lieutenant Elluis and arrange for quarters for him and Obi-Wan."

Sabé bowed her head in acknowledgement. Jahn reached out and took Obi-Wan's bag. The Jedi offered the Queen his arm, and they headed for the Palace steps. The woman in the gold dress followed them.

Jahn turned to Sabé, extending his hand. "I'm sorry. We weren't properly introduced. I'm Jahn Elluis." She looked askance at him for a moment before shaking his hand. Her fingers were warm against his, and his heart skipped a beat. _She has beautiful eyes_.

"There's nothing wrong with my hearing, Lieutenant," she said, tempering the remark with a small smile. She released his hand and turned to go through the Gardens.

Jahn stared after her, then hefted the bags onto his shoulder and quickly followed.

*******************

Obi-Wan settled into a chair opposite the Queen's large desk. He noted its disarray – not a normal state, given what he knew about her. A gold handmaiden's gown was thrown carelessly over the back of her chair. Padmé pushed it aside absently as she sat down.

"You said you had some information that I might find interesting?"

It was voiced as a question, but Obi-Wan didn't miss the authoritative undertone. He regarded her thoughtfully. She had somewhat calmed the earlier turmoil of her thoughts and was now focused on him. 

Starting with the mission to Sessone, Obi-Wan related to her everything that he and Elluis had learned. He felt her flash of amusement when he talked about 'recruiting' Kieg Keik. Good – she didn't seem to have a problem with his use of questionable associates. Though her expression remained calm, he sensed her growing anger as he told her about the diverted money. Of the nearly one hundred contracts that they had investigated, more than eighty of them had cost overruns, with more than sixty of those exceeding the projected budget by greater than fifty percent. They had been able to trace most of the money to holding companies incorporated mainly in the Corporate Sector. Obi-Wan was sure that the companies are just fronts for something else, but they had been unable to dig up anything further after Kieg Keik disappeared.

"Disappeared?" the Queen asked.

"Without a trace. I suspect he was murdered, though we didn't turn up any evidence of that." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Kieg was a gambler and a drunk who seemed to owe money to half the loan sharks in the galaxy, so it shouldn't have been a surprise. But my instincts tell me it was related to the work he was doing for us."

She nodded. "So where does that leave us?"

Obi-Wan pulled a stack of datacards from his cloak. "I am assuming that you have someone on your staff who is well-versed in the Republic's financial, incorporation, and trade laws who can make more sense of this information than I can." He held the cards out.

The Queen leaned over the desk and took them from him, then keyed the intercom. "Eirtaé." The handmaiden's response came back immediately. "Summon Minister Tréas, please." She turned back to Obi-Wan. "My Minister of the Economy has several such people working for him."

"You do understand, though, Your Highness, that this information cannot be used as evidence of fraud or any other crime?"

"Yes," she said. "Inadmissible due to violation of search-and-seizure laws. I don't think the courts would take too kindly to the use of slicers to obtain confidential information. And it's not probable cause for a legal search of the records. However," she added thoughtfully, "if there are Senators or other government officials involved – and I'm sure there are – the mere threat of a political scandal could be enough to goad them into action."

Obi-Wan leaned forward in his chair. "Your Highness, we did manage to make one complete trace." He held out another card. "As I'm sure you're well aware, Naboo's N-3 Advanced Starfighter was grossly over budget. We found that the excess money from that project was diverted from CEC to a small company on Etti IV called BioRep."

She raised her eyebrows and signaled for him to continue.

"BioRep was – is – a biotechnology firm. It filed for bankruptcy several years ago, but was bought out by another company. It was started by Professor Richtor Spaarti, who, you may remember, was the controversial master of the Mining Guild's cloning efforts." 

She leaped to her feet as his words sunk in. "Do you mean to tell me," she bit out, her voice low and dangerous, "that _Naboo_ is funding the creation of these abominations?"

"The possibility cannot be dismissed, Your Highness." Obi-Wan gestured to the stack of datacards. "I think we will find that other worlds, as well as the Republic itself, have also 'contributed'."

She went perfectly still, except for her small fists, which were clenching and unclenching. "I got personally involved in that project when I found out how far over budget it was," she said angrily. "But they were able to account for most of it and I thought that the money was most likely going into the pockets of a greedy executive or a crooked politician. If I had only known…" Beneath her anger, Obi-Wan detected an undercurrent of sadness and…guilt? Her lips moved and he thought he heard, "…so sorry, Ani." The tumult he had sensed in her thoughts earlier was back.

"Your Highness, I must inquire about the nature of your relationship with Anakin. Am I correct in assuming it has…developed…into something beyond friendship?"

The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. She simply stared at him.

"You're lovers, are you not?" he asked, unable to keep the slightly accusing tone from his voice. Still she said nothing, but the sudden flush of her cheeks told him the answer. _Yoda was right_. "This is not wise, Padmé. I would think that you, of all people, would understand that."

"What goes on between Anakin and me is just that – between Anakin, and me," she replied sharply, crossing her arms and turning away from him. "It's our concern."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid it is also my concern, Your Highness, as is anything that affects him, or more importantly, his state of mind. And few things affect a young man's state of mind more than a sexual relationship. It is an unnecessary distraction. You must understand this. And Anakin is, after all, my Padawan."

She whirled on him. "Then why didn't you help him? Why didn't you go after him instead of asking me? Why did you leave him to struggle with this on his own?" She was as emotional as he'd ever seen her, almost shouting at him. "He needed you! He thinks that you abandoned him, that you don't care!"

Obi-Wan felt a stab of irritation. "What is he struggling with? What happened?"

Padmé swiped at her eyes. "Shmi…his mother…the Mandalore clones attacked Mos Espa and she was killed. She died in his arms, Obi-Wan. And he couldn't do anything to help her."

He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing full well the pain of losing a parental figure. He recalled his own difficulties in dealing with Qui-Gon's death. Did Anakin have the emotional resiliency to cope with this? He opened his eyes and looked at Padmé with disapproval. "So you took him to your bed to comfort him, did you?"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Slapping her might have shocked her less. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to apologize.

"This subject is closed, Jedi Kenobi," she said icily. "My personal life is not something I care to discuss with you."

The beeping of the intercom cut off his reply. Padmé continued to glare at him as she answered it. "Yes?"

Eirtae's voice sounded tinny through the small speaker. "Minister Tréas is here, Your Highness."

"Send him in, Eirtaé," Padmé ordered.

Eirtaé sounded a bit distressed. "But, Your Highness, you're not—"

Obi-Wan realized that despite ten years in office, few people, even her Council members, had ever seen the Queen without her Court makeup.

"I _said,_ send him in," Padmé repeated tightly.

The door slid open and Minister Tréas, a small, nattily dressed man in his sixties, walked into the office. His eyes darted back and forth between Padmé and Obi-Wan, clearly confused. Padmé picked up the datacards and handed them to him. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized who she was, and he bowed quickly. She gave him his instructions.

"I want this to be your top priority, Minister," she said when she finished. "I cannot overstate its importance."

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed and left.

Padmé sat back down at her desk. She flicked on her datareader and gathered the cards that were scattered over the desktop. She glanced over at Obi-Wan as if surprised to see him still sitting there.

"If you've no further information for me, Jedi Kenobi, I still have a number of issues here that require my attention." She turned her eyes to the datareader.

Obi-Wan got to his feet and gave her a slight bow. She did not look at him again, having obviously dismissed him. He left the office swiftly. If he had bothered to glance back, he would have seen her cradle her head on her arm and pound the desktop in frustration.

*******************

Padmé wandered the halls of the Palace aimlessly, Eirtaé trailing close behind. The handmaiden had finally given up trying to get her Queen to put a hooded cloak on over her old clothes. If she hadn't been so preoccupied, Padmé would have found Eirtaé's efforts to protect her image amusing. But right now, she just found them annoying. She longed to dismiss the handmaiden, but after the incident that afternoon, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Captain Panaka had conducted a very long, very one-sided 'discussion' about the event with Eirtaé and Sabé.

She found herself at the tall windows of a hallway on the western side of the Palace, watching as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Its dying rays cast the hallway in a pinkish glow, the light reflecting gently off the gleaming marble. Her eyes traveled down the cliffs, searching for the outcropping, though she knew that she would need a pair of macrobinoculars to really see it. She closed her eyes as she relived the events of the afternoon and fought her urge to go to Anakin.

__

What the tabloids wouldn't make of this! she thought. _'Queen of Naboo Jilts Galaxy's Most Eligible Bachelor for Nineteen Year-Old Jedi.'_ Well, maybe it would stop the rampant speculation about her personal life. _Not likely. If anything, it will make it worse._

Ever since she had come of age, the gossip reporters had scrounged for rumors and tidbits about her love life, and she had found herself reading about liaisons that she supposedly had with this man or that man. Will the Queen marry Prince So-and-So or Senator Whatshisname? _If they only knew_…The constant conjecture had bothered her so much that she had given up her plans to abandon the traditional white makeup, and thus lose Padmé's freedom of movement. And it had gotten much worse since the tabloids had started linking her name had with Bail's.

She looked over at the cliffs again and sighed. How quickly everything had changed! Just weeks ago, she'd been on Coruscant, the Queen dealing with another crisis in her cool, impassive manner, with no other concern than the safety and well-being of her world, and contemplating a marriage proposal with the same deliberateness that she approached all her tasks with. Then Anakin had swooped back into her life and threatened to destroy every shred of self-control that she possessed.

And she loved him for it.

Padmé was startled by this insight. _Because you've avoided thinking about it until now._ _Despite your rather… wanton…behavior today_. But she knew it was true and she suddenly felt free, in a way she had never experienced before. 

But what of Naboo? Her world was her first true love. Could Padmé's love for Anakin co-exist with the Queen's sense of duty? She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. _If I do this, will I someday be forced to choose between them?_

And what of Anakin's duty? She had never heard of a Jedi having a relationship or being married, though that didn't mean that it never happened. And Obi-Wan's disapproval – _that's putting it lightly_ - was plain. Would Anakin go against his Master?

__

Yes, he would. The real question is, are you willing to let him do it?

Padmé turned away from the window and headed for her quarters. Eirtaé fell in step behind her, and Padmé heard the handmaiden's sigh of relief as she entered her chambers. She took the gold handmaiden's dress from Eirtaé and said, "Thank you, Eirtaé. I won't need you anymore."

**********************

Sabé watched from the doorway of her bedroom as Eirtaé bowed and left. Her heart sank as Padmé stood still for several minutes, a lost look on her face. Sabé was about to deliver a Royal butt-chewing, but it would be much easier with a defiant Queen than with the confused soul she saw in front of her. _Oh, well, she'll recover quickly enough when I start in on her._ When Padmé went to the wardrobe, she stepped into the main room. The movement must have caught Padmé's eye, for she tensed and spun around. She relaxed when she saw Sabé leaning on the doorframe.

"Sabé, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she asked, clutching the dress to her chest.

Sabé crossed her arms over her chest. "I might ask you the same question."

Padmé gave her a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?"

"Your little stunt today nearly turned the Palace upside down. Panaka was rare form, ripping into everyone." Sabé winced a bit at the memory, and raised her voice. "What is with this sudden proclivity for disappearing without letting anyone know where you're going? I'm really starting to worry about you. What the hell were you thinking?"

The prod worked. The lost look faded, and Padmé's normal, focused expression returned. It was tinged with anger. "I was thinking that I am a grown woman who can have a private lunch with a friend without issuing a press release," she said.

Sabé softened a bit. "Padmé, we all understand that you want to spend time with Anakin without the prying eyes of bodyguards. And we respect that. But your safety is our responsibility, and we can't do our jobs if you're always sneaking away." Padmé looked defiant, and Sabé felt like a mother lecturing a wayward teen. "I'm just asking that you let someone know, if only to keep Panaka from going nuts. He's going to have a stroke over this if you don't stop. And for 'Vala's sake, keep your comlink on!"

"Are you done?" Padmé's scowl remained in place, but Sabé could see the laughter in her eyes. "I thought I left my mother at home in the mountains. Are you going to remind me to eat my vegetables and wash behind my ears, too?"

"Did you? Eat your vegetables?" Sabé shot her Queen a knowing smile. "Somehow I think your 'appetite' at lunch had nothing to do with food." 

Padmé blushed scarlet and twisted the gold dress in her hands. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," Sabé said. _It's so obvious that it might as well be stamped on your forehead. _She walked over and took the dress from Padmé, hanging it neatly in the wardrobe. "That's why your face is such a lovely shade of…purple?"

Padmé reddened further, something Sabé thought impossible, and displayed an inordinate fascination with her boots. "Surely you can't expect me to discuss that with you."

That was all the confirmation Sabé needed. "So you did!" She felt a mixture of amazement and concern. "I was just cracking wise this morning, you know." She bent her knees to look into Padmé's down-turned face. "Well, I'd really like to know if it was worth the skin that Panaka peeled off Eirtaé and me over your disappearance."

Padmé raised her chin. "Why did he do that? It was hardly your fault."

Sabé waved it off. "You know Panaka – everything is my fault. And quit trying to change the subject." She looked at her friend expectantly.

Padmé walked over to the couch by the window and sat down, gazing out over the Gardens. The lost expression returned. Sabé went over and sat down beside her. "Padmé," she asked quietly, "are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Padmé continued to stare out the window. "No," she said finally.

"What happened?"

Padmé looked at her sharply, then realized that it was not a joking request for the lurid details, but the genuine concern of her best friend. She told Sabé about the ascension gun, the tunnels, and the outcropping. "We had an argument. About Bail Organa's marriage proposal. Anakin behaved like such a lout that I thought I would never forgive him. But after I explained everything to him, he apologized. Just like that. And I couldn't be angry with him anymore. Then he started kissing me like crazy, and…well, you know." She reddened again. "I've never felt like this before, Sabé. I love him and that exhilarates me, but it frightens me at the same time. I don't know why."

Sabé gave her a small smile. For someone so intelligent and sophisticated, Padmé could be remarkably naïve sometimes. "That's because you're so used to always being in control. The cool, level-headed Queen. Anakin took that from you the minute he showed up in our apartments on Coruscant. You can't control this and that scares you."

Padmé sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. "It's not just that. Twice now I've ignored or abandoned my work to follow him somewhere." She looked at her bodyguard, and Sabé saw the worry in her eyes. "Am I capable of being the queen that Naboo deserves if I give in to my feelings for Anakin? Will there come a time when I allow him ahead of our world? More than anything else, I want what is best for us. For Naboo."

"If I can be allowed to speak for the average Naboo, we are well aware of that," Sabé said gently. "You've dedicated over half your life to our well-being, and that's saying something, since you're only twenty-four." She put her hand over Padmé's. "And to answer your question – yes, Amidala has always been the Queen we deserve. And she will continue to be, as long as Padmé Naberrie allows herself the happiness that she deserves. As a woman, not as a monarch. Your life has been lived for your people. Perhaps you should start living for yourself as well." Padmé's fingers closed around hers and squeezed.

"Besides," she continued, "the place hardly fell apart during your absences. Don't get me wrong – Naboo needs you. But bureaucracy is self-perpetuating. It will continue to trundle along with or without someone steering it. The pilot just keeps it from straying too far off course."

"True enough," Padmé said, laughing. "I sometimes wonder if you wouldn't be a wiser Queen than I."

"Hmmph. It's bad enough to have to sit through your Council meetings. If I actually had to run them, there would be summary executions daily." Sabé folded her legs underneath her and studied the other woman. The evil gleam crept back in her eye. With the mood lightened a bit, she couldn't resist the temptation to torment her friend. "So…how was he?"

"Sabé!" Padmé protested. She reddened yet again, and Sabé wondered if the flush was going to become a permanent condition. 

"Hey, I have a right to know, especially since I lost a fair portion of my rear end to Panaka over it. And Eirtaé did too," she reminded her Queen. "So fess up!"

Padmé sprawled back on the couch and closed her eyes. "Incredible," she said softly. "I suspect it might be addictive." Then she gave her bodyguard a significant look. "But unlike some people, I don't really have a basis for comparison."

Sabé shrugged at the reference to own rather…casual…love life. "Finding the right man is like buying a new speeder. How are you going to know which one you really want if you don't test drive several models?"

"Yeah, maybe, but it seems like you've 'tested' every model on the lot."

"I have not!" To her own amazement, Sabé actually blushed. _How long has it been since I've done that?_ "As you pointed out yourself, I haven't done any driving at all recently!"

"Ooh, touchy! I must have hit a nerve. Is your lack of…activity…making you edgy?" Padmé was obviously enjoying herself.

"No!" Sabé realized how defensive she sounded. Padmé _had_ hit close to home, but Sabé really couldn't put her finger on the reason for her own uneasiness. _Maybe it's because you'd like to have a man look at you the way Anakin looks at her._ Then she smiled thoughtfully. "But something did catch my eye today." 

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really? Who this time?"

Sabé shook her head, her thoughts far away. "No, probably a bad idea," she said, more to herself than Padmé. "Are you going to Anakin tonight?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Sabé…" came the warning reply.

"I'm asking as your protector, Your Highness," the bodyguard said seriously. "I need to know where you are, or who is with you. Panaka is going to be keeping a close watch after today. He was already upset over the trip to Tatooine." 

"I don't know, Sabé," Padmé said, her frustration evident. "I'm not sure making love to him was the right thing to do. And Obi-Wan is not happy about it at all. Anakin may get into trouble."

"How did _he_ find out?"

"He just…knew. He said it wasn't wise." A hurt look flitted across Padmé's face. "He was rather harsh about it, actually. I don't know – maybe the Jedi have a celibacy code."

Sabé snorted. "Not likely. Probably just Obi-Wan. He seems so uptight sometimes." She stood up. "I think you should go see Ani. If for no other reason than to decide if what you did was right. And he looked very upset when he took off this afternoon. He barely even spoke to Obi-Wan."

"I think he partly blames Obi-Wan, or at least the Jedi, for his mother's death." Padmé looked unhappy. "He blames himself mostly, but I think Obi-Wan's arrival reminded him that they never let him see her. That they forced him to wait just a little too long. And that Obi-Wan never came for him."

Sabé pulled her to her feet. "Go to him, Padmé. He needs you." She suddenly felt unexplainably sad. "Happiness seems to be such a chancy thing sometimes. Grab it while it's front of you."

*************************

Anakin sat at the table in his room, making adjustments to his lightsaber hilt with a small spanner. Other small tools and electronic components littered the tabletop, along with a collection of crystals. Threepio sat across the table, sorting the crystals by size, shape, and the colors that he had figured out Master Anakin liked and disliked. Anakin had finished the covering job started by Padmé on Tatooine, and the foreman of the Palace droid pool had promised to provide him with shiny coverings as soon as possible. The promise had mollified Threepio somewhat, but Anakin still had to threaten to deactivate him to get him to shut up about his inappropriate appearance.

"Threepio, hand me that crystal we picked up downtown the other day." Anakin pointed to a deep blue stone in the middle of one of the piles.

"Oh, yes, sir, that is one of the finest stones we obtained." The droid pushed the crystal across the table. "The merchant was adamant about its quality and assured me that it would be—"

Anakin tried not to roll his eyes. "I know what he said, Threepio – I was there, remember? And it should be good, as much as he charged me for it." He picked up the small stone and carefully fitted it into the hilt. He made a few more adjustments to the controls, then stood and moved to the center of the room.

"Okay, here goes." He thumbed the switch and a bright blue blade sprang from the hilt. Grinning broadly, Anakin swung the saber several times. But as he watched, the blade started oscillating, the color jumping rapidly from blue to white to garish purple. Then it went out in a brilliant flash of light, leaving nothing but a handle with white smoke pouring from the business end. The smell of fried circuitry filled the room.

Anakin opened his eyes and let loose a string of vile Huttese curses, causing Threepio to exclaim, "Oh, my!" He tossed the hilt back on the table, scattering crystals, tools, and electronic parts in every direction. Then he flopped back into the chair. When the lightsaber stopped smoking, he pried the crystal out and examined it with a magnifying eyepiece. He adjusted the lens several times, then unleashed another torrent of gutter Huttese.

"That no-good, lying, swindling cheat!" Anakin flung the eyepiece down on the table. "This 'flawless' crystal has an air pocket in the center!" Enraged, he sent the crystal flying across the room with enough force to shatter it against the marble wall. "He must have switched them when he went to package it up!"

"If I may offer my opinion, Master Anakin, I believe the merchant was rather upset about your haggling with him," said Threepio. "Bargaining for a better price is accepted practice on Tatooine, but the Naboo custom is to price things fairly and pay the indicated value for the merchandise. Perhaps because you demanded a lower price—"

"Shut up, Threepio!" Anakin roared. He pushed his hands through his hair and dropped his head to the table. He heard Threepio moving and looked up to watch as the droid proceeded to retrieve the scattered components without a word. Anakin felt a twinge of guilt at seeing his normally talkative droid cowed into complete silence. He tried to squash it. _He's just a droid_. But taking his anger out on Threepio was no more productive than smashing the faulty crystal. Especially since neither was the real cause. 

Threepio returned the parts to the table, then said somewhat hesitantly, "Sir, if you have no further need of me this evening, I shall return to the droid pool. Perhaps the foreman has managed to procure—"

Anakin cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, go on." He watched the droid shuffle from the room, then dropped his head to the table again, feeling bad about his treatment of Threepio and wondering how long it would be before Obi-Wan showed up to lecture him.

He had been aware of his master's presence on Naboo since before he and Padmé returned to the Gardens, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. But he sensed that Obi-Wan's primary reason for coming to Naboo had not been to search for his apprentice. That part was just a coincidence. A small fire of resentment burned inside of him, both at that realization and at the camaraderie he sensed between Obi-Wan and young Army officer with him. _Didn't take him long to find a new sidekick_.

He looked up as a familiar presence tingled in the back of his mind. Minutes later, the door chime sounded. He did not answer it, but after a short wait, the door slid open to reveal Obi-Wan.

His Master stood framed in the doorway as the awkward silence stretched between them. Finally, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and asked, "May I come in?"

Anakin stared at him blankly, strangely torn between running into Obi-Wan's arms like a small child, and slamming the door shut in his face. "Since you will anyway, regardless of what I say, I suppose you can." He dropped his head back on the table and labored to control the rising tide of emotions that his Master's appearance had triggered. He felt a slight whisper of air across his face and knew that Obi-Wan had moved to his side. 

"Anakin…Padmé told me. I'm sorry—"

"Don't, Obi-Wan," Anakin warned. He raised his head and struggled to keep his voice calm. "Don't you offer me your platitudes for my mother's death. You never knew her. To you, she was nothing more than a distraction from my training." Despite his efforts, his voice rose in anguish. "You didn't have look at her burns, to hold her as she died, to know that you couldn't keep the most important promise you ever made! Don't tell me you're sorry – you don't even know what that is! You've never had anything like this happen to you—"

He broke off at the stricken look on Obi-Wan's face. The memory of Qui-Gon drifted up and from the wave of sadness that rolled through the Force, Anakin knew that the other man shared this image with him. "I…I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's usual calm countenance returned so quickly so that Anakin wondered briefly if his master had been manipulating him. The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Anakin asked, "Why, Obi-Wan?" His voice cracked. "Why wouldn't they let me go to her? Why wouldn't they let me help her? She was my _mother_!"

"You weren't ready, Anakin. You lack control over your emotions. You had not conquered your fears."

Anakin's rage flared both at the answer, which was always the same, and the irritation he sensed as Obi-Wan delivered it. He leaped to the feet. "It appears my fears were justified! If you had let me go sooner, I could have saved her!" He shuddered as the vision of the mysterious Jedi clutching his cloak swam before him. _Holding me back…_

He squeezed his eyes shut to stave off the tears that welled up in them. When he opened them, he saw Obi-Wan's unruffled expression, the sea-blue eyes evaluating him, as always. _And finding me lacking?_ "Why didn't you come after me?" he asked, unable to keep the pleading from his voice. "I needed you."

"I had other duties to attend to, Anakin, that prevented me from following you."

"Oh, I see," Anakin said bitterly, dropping into his chair once again. "Jedi Knights have many more important things to do than look after the well-being of their Padawans."

"The Republic is headed for a crisis, Anakin," Obi-Wan answered, his exasperation evident. "There are larger issues to be dealt with, outside of your personal concerns." His expression softened. "I wasn't entirely indifferent to your plight, Padawan, however unfeeling I may have seemed. That's why I asked Padmé to go after you."

Anakin clenched his fists. Obi-Wan had sent Padmé! He wanted to jump on his Master, to strike him again and again for daring to send his beloved into such danger. He spread his shaking hands flat on the table, pressing down hard, resisting the urge to attack. He ground out, "So a Jedi's duty takes precedence over a Queen's? I didn't realize we were so important."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, obviously puzzled by his apprentice's anger. "She agreed to go, Anakin. I'm sure she wouldn't have if—"

Anakin sprang to his feet again. "The clones destroyed Mos Espa!" he yelled. "She could've been killed!" His arm swept across the table, once again scattering the tools and crystals over the room. The lightsaber hilt crashed to the floor with a loud _crack!_ He paced the room like a caged animal, fragments of crystals and small electronics crunching under his boots. "Of course she would come! She's my friend!"

He stopped and leaned against the wall. "She's my…everything," he finished softly, sliding down the wall to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. 

He heard Obi-Wan's quiet footsteps, then his soft voice. "Anakin…"

"Go away, Obi-Wan," he said, his breaking voice muffled by his arms. "Just…go away."

Obi-Wan reached out for his apprentice. His hand hovered awkwardly over the boy's shoulder for a moment before he slowly withdrew it and tucked it into the sleeve of his cloak. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

Padmé saw Obi-Wan step from Anakin's room as she turned the corner into the guest wing. She stopped, hesitant to approach the room and risk another confrontation with the Jedi. His earlier harsh words rang in her head and her anger swelled. _Why should I have to justify my feelings to him?_ She set her jaw and strode down the hall.

Obi-Wan looked up as she drew near. He did not seem surprised to see her. "Your Highness," he greeted with a small bow.

"Jedi Kenobi," she acknowledged coolly. Her gaze flicked past him to the door of Anakin's room, then returned to his face. The blue eyes seemed to peer right through her. The heat rose in her cheeks and she wondered if he sensed her purpose. _So what if he does?_ Her anger rose again. _What is it about him that raises my hackles so?_ She nodded and moved around him, reaching for the door controls.

"Your Highness." Her hand halted over the mechanism. "Padmé…" 

The uncertainty in his voice made her turn to face him. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

His eyes dropped briefly before returning to hold hers fast. "I apologize for my earlier words. They were indiscreet and inconsiderate. It was not my intent to hurt you."

"What _was_ your intent, Obi-Wan?" She tried and failed to keep the hostility from her voice.

"Your Highness, training to become a Jedi Knight requires a singular focus and the utmost dedication. Romantic entanglements are distractions from the path. As are any strong emotions. That is why we put so much emphasis on control. And that is the reason that Padawans are discouraged from pursuing such relationships. And even most Jedi Knights never marry – the lifestyle does not lend itself to the commitment a family requires." He paused, clearly trying to decide what to say. "Control has always been a problem for Anakin. He started training late, after he had formed emotional bonds outside the Temple." 

"A bond with his mother, you mean," Padmé said. 

"And with you," he said seriously. "A friendship, which I encouraged because of his…difficulties…with the other Padawans. Padmé, please remain just friends with him. If you truly care about him—"

"It's a little late for that now, Obi-Wan," Padmé replied, more sharply than she had intended. "We can't take back what's already happened." She grimaced – she hadn't meant to admit to the physical intimacy she and Anakin shared. But it mattered little since the Jedi had already figured it out. "Our relationship has changed. To try to return to what was…before…would be difficult, if not impossible." She raised her chin defiantly. "Even if I wanted to."

"I can forbid him to see you."

Her rage spiked, and she clamped it down hard. _Why do you insist on cutting him off from everyone that he cares about?_ "Yes, you can," she acknowledged grimly. "And it might even work out as well as forbidding him to see his mother." She turned away, reaching for the door controls once more.

Her hand hesitated when his voice came again, soft and worried. "If you pursue this, Your Highness, I fear that you will one day regret it."

Padmé froze for a moment. Then, with a fresh wave of determination, she palmed the door open and stepped through without a backward glance.

The sight of the room brought her up short. Shattered crystals and electronic components littered the floor. The overhead light reflected off the fragments, throwing up a sparkling rainbow of colors that contrasted sharply with the room's oppressive silence. Padmé bent down and picked up a familiar silver cylinder. She turned the lightsaber hilt over in her hands. It was cracked in one place and a wisp of white smoke wafted from the end, carrying the sharp odor of burned insulation.

__

What happened in here? If she didn't know better, she would have sworn there had been a fight. No matter how unhappy they were with each other, she couldn't imagine that Anakin and Obi-Wan would ever come to blows. But what else would cause such a mess? 

She put the lightsaber on the table and turned to see Anakin sitting on the floor against the wall, his arms folded across his bent knees, his face hidden from view. She crossed the room, her boots grinding over the small bits of stone and wire, and knelt beside him.

"Ani?"

He raised his head to look at her. _Gods, he's been crying!_ She took his face gently in her hands and wiped the tears from his cheeks, her heart aching at the sadness in his beautiful blue eyes. He suddenly looked very young again and she caught a glimpse of the shivering boy on the Royal Starship. A small, frightened boy who had just left his mother behind. 

"Ani, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer her. He just pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her shoulder, holding onto her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. Padmé wrapped one arm around his back and cradled his head in the other, rocking and whispering to him in a manner that reminded her of that awful day on Tatooine. The worst day of his life. And the day, she realized now, that she had started falling in love with him. She hugged him closer.

(Don't you know that I can feel what you feel?)

(I love you, more than you could ever know)

(Grab it while it's front of you)

(I fear that you will one day regret it)

These thoughts tumbled and whirled through her head, bumping off one another faster and faster until she was dizzy with them, yet they spun on and on, churning inside her until she feared she would burst. Her throat ached and a small sob escaped, the tears welling in her eyes before she could stop them. She burrowed further into Anakin's arms and struggled to keep from breaking down.

His head lifted from her shoulder and he caught her chin in one hand. His other dusted gently over her face, lingering on every feature, his eyes intense. _Like he's trying to memorize me_. Then he gazed deeply into her eyes and she felt a little jolt, as if he was staring at her very soul.

"Padmé," he said hoarsely, "promise you'll never go away from me. Everyone I love goes away from me. Qui-Gon…Mom…Obi-Wan… Please, promise me you'll never go away…"

"Ani…"

**_Promise me…_** She heard his voice in her mind, pleading, and the churning feelings began again. She choked back another sob. 

"I promise," she said, her voice catching. She ran her fingers over his cheek. "I love you, Anakin."

His eyes watered again, and he kissed her desperately, deeply, pressing her hard against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss with a passion that surprised her. When their lips finally parted, they clung tightly to each other, wishing more than ever to shut out the rest of the universe. As Padmé clutched Anakin to her, she had a sinking feeling that the real world had only begun its intrusions.

(Grab it while it's in front of you.)

__

Oh, Sabé, how I hope you're right…

************************

Padmé came out of the 'fresher, rubbing her eyes. She retrieved her tunic from the floor where Anakin had tossed it and pulled it on. The first rays of the rising sun filtered through the gauzy curtains, bathing the room in soft, sepia tones that made her briefly feel like she had stepped into the middle of an old holovid. It was an odd, unreal feeling, yet for some reason she wanted to cling to it. 

She stood by the bed and looked down at Anakin's sleeping form. He was sprawled on his back, breathing lightly, the sheets covering him to the waist. His handsome features were relaxed, and his mouth curved in the smallest hint of a smile. It was the most completely unguarded look she had seen on his face in a long time and it made him seem very young. But he had such an old soul. He had faced so much for a man his age. Ever since his mother's death, a shadow seemed to hover close to him. Yesterday, Padmé had seen the shadow pass for a time, and she wondered if she could banish it for good.

She didn't want to wake him, but she couldn't resist touching him. She ran her fingers lightly over his cheek, fascinated by the rough growth of whiskers. Despite his height and muscular build, to her the stubble seemed the most tangible proof that he was no longer a boy. His Padawan braid lay against the pillow, and she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the smooth texture of the plaited hair. She saw the auburn strands braided in with the blond – the physical symbol of the bond between Anakin and Obi-Wan – and wondered again what had happened between them last night.

Stepping carefully around the sharp fragments of crystal that littered the floor, Padmé went to the table and picked up the lightsaber hilt. She examined it closely. It was cracked in one place and loose wires dangled from the business end. She knew little about lightsabers beyond what Anakin had told her, but she did know that they required very high-quality energy-focusing stones. Anakin and Threepio had spent a good amount of time in Theed looking for a suitable crystal, but had not had much luck. She looked around at the mess on the floor. _Even if they did find something, it's not usable any more_. Then she smiled as inspiration struck.

Mindful of her bare feet, she walked gingerly across the floor to her trousers and dug out her comlink. "Sabé," she said softly into it.

Her bodyguard responded immediately and alertly, despite the early hour. _One day, I AM going to catch her sleeping_, Padmé promised herself. She relayed precise instructions. Sabé sent an acknowledgement and promised to be as quick as possible.

A few minutes later, a soft tap sounded at the door. Padmé opened it to see Sabé standing in the hall, dressed in a hooded blue cloak and looking fully awake. The bodyguard's eyes flicked over her, and Padmé reddened as she realized how she must look, her hair wild and wearing only her tunic, which didn't really cover her as well as it should. Sabé glanced into the room and saw Anakin still asleep, but the knowing look Padmé expected never materialized. Instead, her handmaiden gave her a wistful smile and held out a small velvet pouch. Then she shrugged out of the cloak and handed that over as well.

Padmé took them. "Thank you, Sabé. Then, on an impulse, she hugged the other woman fiercely. "Thank you for everything." Sabé smiled again and squeezed her hand, then turned and walked down the hall.

Padmé closed the door and tossed the cloak onto a chair, then retrieved her trousers and boots and finished dressing. She looked in the mirror and grimaced at her hair. _Worse than I thought_. She used her fingers to try to put it in some semblance of order, then gave up and wove it into a loose braid. Moving to the bed, she sat down beside Anakin. She studied his peaceful face for a few minutes, then leaned over and kissed him gently. His eyes blinked opened and he gave her a bleary smile.

"Wow," he said. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to." He sat up and kissed her, then put his arms around her and drew her close. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "You're up early," he commented, rubbing her back lightly.

She pulled back from him, admiring his expanse of bare chest. She bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to run her hands over him. "I have to go get ready for work." He pouted and stared at her with pleading eyes. _Ohhhh…_ "Don't look at me like that. I'm far enough behind as it is." 

"Can't you take a vacation or something?"

"I took my vacation yesterday afternoon." She pushed at his chest as he leaned in for another kiss. "Anakin, I have duties to attend to. And so do you." She looked around the messy room.

Responding to her unspoken question, Anakin said, "We had an argument. Or rather, I argued and yelled, and he stood there and listened, implacable as always, making me feel about two centimeters tall." He gestured at the mess. "I'm afraid I had a bit of a…temper tantrum."

"What did you argue about?" Padmé wondered if Obi-Wan had confronted him about their relationship.

Anakin closed his eyes. "I asked him why the Council wouldn't let me help my mother. And why he didn't come after me." His voice shook. "I thought he cared about me!"

Padmé pushed her fingers through his hair. "I'm sure he cares about you, Ani," she said soothingly.

"Then why didn't he come for me? You know he's here on business? He didn't come here looking for me! That was coincidence!" He took a deep breath. "Qui-Gon would have helped me," he said sadly.

"That's not fair, Ani." Padmé wasn't sure why she felt compelled to defend Obi-Wan, though she agreed with Anakin's assertion. "I'm sure Obi-Wan did what he thought was right. And he told me that Master Yoda had forbidden him to go after you."

His eyes turned gray, and she could almost hear his thought: _Qui-Gon would have come anyway. He disobeyed the Council all the time._

"Ani, I think you should speak with him. He's your Master. He raised you. I'm sure that it hurts him to see you in pain. And you must resume your training if you are ever to become a Knight." She touched his hand. "Please."

He looked at her for a long moment before nodding. Then she took his hand and pressed the velvet pouch into it. 

"What's this?" He opened the pouch and a faceted, sky-blue gemstone fell into his palm.

"A little something for your lightsaber. My grandmother Winama gave it to me when I was elected Queen, for luck. It's a Naboo sapphire, one of the purest ever found." _And the same color as those wonderful blue eyes of yours._

Anakin ran his thumb over the smooth stone. "Padmé, I can't put a beautiful gem like this into a lightsaber. Especially if it belonged to your grandmother. I know how close you were to her." He tried to give it back to her.

She took his hand and closed his fingers around the stone. "Anakin, you once told me that a Jedi's lightsaber is the one thing that is unique to him, a piece of craftsmanship that truly reflects its maker. And that after it is complete, it is like a part of him." Anakin nodded and she went on, "I can't think of any better way to show my love than to have this part of me become an important part of you."

"I…I don't know what to say."

"Say 'thank you,' " she instructed.

"Thank you," he parroted.

"Say 'I love you.' "

"I love you." He kissed her tenderly, then held her face in his large hands and looked her directly in the eyes. "Padmé, are you sure that you're okay with this?" 

__

He's doing it again. She blushed, then nodded. "Sabé told me last night that I should start living for myself as well as for my people. But I want to live for us, too." She leaned against him. "I love you, Ani."

He hugged her close, and she nestled into his chest, feeling warm, safe, and for the first time since she left Coruscant, sure of what she was doing. They would work out the rest together.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Chapter 18

Colonel Wilhuff Tarkin sat at his desk, his sharp blue eyes staring sightlessly across his office. His elbows were propped upon the shiny surface, his sharp chin resting on his folded hands. A tiny receiver was nestled deep within his right ear, and every so often he lifted a hand to make an adjustment to it. A thin wire ran from the earpiece to a small rectangular recorder in the top drawer of his desk.

Finally he pulled the receiver from his ear and dropped it into the desk drawer. He opened the recorder and removed a small disc. He smiled thinly. The Chancellor would very interested in the latest news coming out of the Temple. Tarkin would have to transcribe the disc to remove the long stretches of silence and the banal conversations of young children, but this particular eavesdropping session had been most fruitful.

Tarkin was continually amazed at the ease with which information flowed out of the Temple. The Jedi never bothered with even the rudimentary counterintelligence efforts within the ancient walls, apparently content that their safe haven was secure. The Council and the Masters were not completely loose-lipped; they watched their words carefully around the younger trainees and others with no need to know, but they were surprisingly open amongst themselves and paid no heed to the droids and other mechanicals that wandered their halls.

Tarkin had been charged with keeping tabs on the Jedi since the beginning of his tenure in the Supreme Chancellor's office. The Chancellor had made it quite clear, albeit obliquely, that he wished for the Jedi's power and influence to be held in check. The Temple was an insulated, seeming unassailable enclave amongst the leaky edifices of the capital, and Tarkin had pondered the task of gathering information for several weeks before being introduced to young Anakin Skywalker.

Tarkin had chatted up the bored-looking teenager at his third Senate reception in as many weeks, and had received an enthusiastic recitation of the virtues of pod racing, as well as a analysis of the pros and cons of various types of fighter spacecraft. Further conversation had revealed the sixteen year-old's fascination with droids, and Tarkin had arranged for the boy to 'discover' an old, broken model of delivery droid. Several days later, a steady stream of information began to flow from the Jedi Temple.

The Chancellor was interested in all information from the Temple, no matter how trivial it seemed. This surprised Tarkin. Palpatine shared Tarkin's own disdain for the Jedi's mystic ways, though he was perfectly willing to wield their power when it suited his purposes. The Chancellor was nothing if not practical, and the single most ambitious individual Tarkin had ever encountered, himself included. He had once wondered what further ambitions the man could harbor; he was, after all, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. 

But the Republic was in turmoil, with the Core Worlds bickering amongst themselves, the unfettered expansion of the Corporate Sector interests, and now the rumored return of the Mandalore warriors. Palpatine was shoring up his support and building new allegiances, positioning himself to take advantage of any change. A major shift in power was on its way. Tarkin could almost taste it, and he was determined that he would be one of its beneficiaries. If that meant neutralizing the Jedi, then so be it. 

He was unsure what challenge the Jedi would pose. Their numbers were dwindling and their glory days were behind them. Many beings distrusted their 'sorcerer's' ways and others dismissed them as practitioners of a dying religion. Tarkin knew from first-hand experience that they were not to be underestimated, but with the correct information and some subtle maneuvering, they could be rendered ineffective as a political force.

Tarkin pulled out a datapad and drew up a quick analysis of the information he had just received. It would be useful, he mused, to have a Jedi, or a former Jedi, on the Chancellor's staff, to shed some light on the more…esoteric aspects of Temple philosophy and lend some insight as to why the Jedi behaved in certain ways. He would have to suggest that to the Chancellor.

He finished up his analysis and buzzed Sei Teria to get a few minutes of Palpatine's time. Sei told him that the Chancellor was available to see him right then. Tarkin gathered his thoughts and proceeded down the hall to the Chancellor's office. Change was coming, sooner rather than later. But his future looked bright. Very bright, indeed.

***********************

Professor Richtor Spaarti bent nervously over his technicians' shoulders and stared at the computer screens. They had spent the last two weeks rewriting the flash-learning programs after the disaster on Tatooine, although Spaarti remained unsure of exactly what had happened. After all, the seedy spaceport that was the target had been destroyed.

Colonel Fett had been like a man possessed, prowling the labs and offices like a feral beast, lashing out at anyone or anything that crossed his path. He killed two techs before Spaarti was able to convince him that such actions were counterproductive. The colonel had reportedly botched some portion of his mission to the desert planet, and was quite enraged and embarrassed by it. He blamed the failure on the clone soldiers and their incompetence.

__

Of course they were incompetent, Spaarti thought. Flash-learning, no matter how advanced, was no substitute for training and education. It provided the basic aptitudes and skill sets needed for whatever occupation the clone was being grown for. In this case, the programming provided marksmanship, enhanced situational awareness, and a basic understanding of tactics and individual combat techniques. But the ability to apply this knowledge under different types of conditions would only come through training and experience. The clones were, after all, only human, even if they came from the 'womb' fully grown.

Spaarti's only attempt to explain this to the Mandalorian colonel had resulted in the professor receiving a bruised jaw and split lip. He had said nothing more about it, just thrown himself back into his work and thanked whatever gods there were that Darth Nemesis was on still on Coruscant. And Fett had left him alone as well, caught up in the obsessive drilling of his Mandalore warriors and the remaining clone troops, sometimes driving them to the brink of collapse.

Spaarti did not want to examine the uses of his clones too closely, not willing to admit that he had made a deal with the devil. It had all started with some intriguing research into the possibility of regenerating some endangered species, then with regrowing diseased and destroyed organs for sentient beings. Then he had cloned a human in his lab at Coruscant University, and the potential seemed limitless. A second chance for a loved one, children for couples unable to bear their own…so much promise for the technology. 

The outrage had caught him completely by surprise. One minute, he had been lecturing his Advanced Xenobiology students; the next, he and the personal contents of his office were being escorted to the door by the campus police, with warnings not to set foot on the grounds again. Feeling bewildered and betrayed, and unable to obtain a suitable teaching position, he bounced from job to job before the Mining Guild approached him.

Spaarti had buried himself in the work and refused to acknowledge the obvious: the Mining Guild wanted slave labor, and needed the clones to exploit a loophole in the Republic's anti-slavery laws. But the mental instability and other problems…

The professor shook his head. Large projects such as these were necessary to discover how to perfect the technology. What his patrons did with the clones was not his concern. 

"What is this, Zev?" he asked one of the technicians, pointing to a line of code.

The tech swallowed. "That's the encoding for heavy weapons proficiency. Colonel Fett came through the other day and said he couldn't waste his time with basic weapons training and he wants them to have the knowledge when then they come of the cylinders."

"I see. What else does he want added?"

"Nothing, right now," the tech said nervously. Spaarti noted the empty chair next to him – the tech who usually sat there had been a victim of one of Fett's rages, which explained the other man's unease. "But he interrogated one that came out of the tank yesterday, then came and demanded that more detail be added to the existing flash-learning."

__

By the Maker, it will take more time to recode the programs than it would for him to train them, Spaarti thought. But he wasn't going to argue with the foul-tempered Mandalorian. He wondered idly if the Sith knew about Fett's demands, and if so, what their reaction had been. He had not heard from Nemesis since before the raid on Tatooine. Which suited him fine.

"Professor Spaarti?" He turned to see his administrative assistant standing in the door. "We are receiving a communication from Coruscant."

Spaarti's legs turned to water. _To think of the devil will bring him forth_. "Very well," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He followed his assistant down the hall to the communications room. Stepping to the console, he swallowed heavily and keyed for the incoming signal.

A life-size holo of Darth Nemesis appeared on the floor in front of him. The Sith looked displeased. "Where is Fett?" he demanded.

"Ah…my Lord…Colonel Fett is putting his warriors and the new group of clones through combat training. He is out on the range, about twenty kilometers from here."

"Contact him, Professor, and get him in here. NOW." The Sith sounded more menacing and impatient than usual.

"Uh…yes, yes! Right away, my Lord!" Spaarti fumbled in the pocket of his dirty lab coat and pulled out his comlink while Nemesis' holo loomed over him. He attempted to raise Colonel Fett, but received no reply. He switched between the several available frequencies and tried again, to no avail. "H-he's not answering the comlink, my Lord."

Nemesis crossed his arms over his chest. "Then go get him, Professor," he ordered, enunciating each word clearly. "My patience is wearing thin."

Spaarti turned to his assistant, but Nemesis cut him off before he could speak. "Go yourself, Professor. Do not send your lackey. And make haste! Contact me here when you return." The holo blinked out.

Spaarti wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to his assistant again. "Have a speeder brought around for me." The man nodded and left. The professor groaned and sagged heavily against the wall. For the first time in almost forty years, he began to question the price of his passion.

*************************

Spaarti halted the speeder at the entrance to the training range. He heard the screech of weapons fire and felt the rumbling vibrations of some sort of explosion. The sound of yelling voices drifted through the occasional lulls, carried by the constant winds. Spaarti did not want to venture onto the range. He was distinctly uncomfortable with soldiers and the trappings of warfare. He had never touched a weapon in his life. Digging out his comlink, he tried once again to contact Fett. Still no response.

Spaarti shuddered as he climbed out of the speeder. The landscape of Concord Dawn was dark and barren, marked by tall, geometric rock formations that jutted sharply from the flat plains. A fine layer of black volcanic ash covered everything. The angular construction of the clone research facility was barely visible in the distance, blending into the black rock of the surrounding mountains. Up above it, the peaks coughed up steam and embers as the immense heat from the planet's core pushed its way up. The research facility tapped directly into that heat to boost its power supplies.

Clutching his lab coat around him, Spaarti approached the range entrance, hoping to find a sentry or someone else that he could send to fetch Colonel Fett. He saw no one. The observation tower was unoccupied, as were the crude stone benches that stood beneath it. If he hadn't heard the sounds of weapons fire, he would have sworn the range was deserted. Ten rows of neatly aligned rucksacks were the only sign of anyone's presence. The professor took a deep breath and steeled himself for a walk down the range.

A movement near the tower caught his eye, and he turned to see the young clone walking toward him. It was the first time he had seen the boy since introducing him to Darth Nemesis, and the clone had grown quite a bit, the top of his head now level with Spaarti's. It wasn't the boy's growth that startled him, though – it was the utter emptiness of those dark eyes. 

"Where is the Colonel, Boba?" Spaarti asked, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair. 

The boy flinched back, his unblinking eyes never leaving the old man's face. He did not answer, just turned and started down the path leading into the range itself. He looked back, then jerked his head to indicate that Spaarti should follow him.

Spaarti's nervousness increased tenfold as he followed the boy along the rocky path. His hair stood on end, both from his unease and from the static caused by the use of so many energy weapons in a small area. The sounds of shouting voices reached his ears as they came around a large stone formation and the training area came into view.

Spaarti stopped and stared. At least one hundred clones stood shoulder to shoulder in formation, attired in the gray armor and helmets of the Mandalore warriors. The professor had never been bothered by the sameness of the clone facial features, bodies and voices, but seeing them lined up here, armed and dressed for battle, sent an uncontrollable shiver through him. He fought a wild desire to flee to the speeder and return to the sterility of the lab.

He watched as the soldiers left the formation, one at a time, and entered what appeared to be an obstacle course of some type. Regular Mandalore warriors, distinguishable by the rank stripes on their arms, were scattered across the course, shouting instructions and obscenities at the clones as they went threw the obstacles.

He felt a tug on his coat and looked down at the boy, who pointed across the course. Colonel Fett stood atop a pile of sharp rocks, watching the training. Spaarti picked his way around the edge of the course, trying desperately to ignore the ground-shaking explosions and the hair-raising screech of blaster fire. When he reached Fett, he called out several times, but the colonel apparently could not hear him over the din. Finally Spaarti reached up and tapped him on his armored leg.

Before Spaarti had time to register what happened, Fett was directly in front of him. A large, wicked-looking knife with a serrated edge had appeared from nowhere, and Spaarti felt the tip press against his neck. He gulped at his own terrified expression reflected in Fett's helmet visor.

"What do you want?" Fett asked in his ruined voice. He withdrew the knife and it disappeared as quickly as it had come out.

Spaarti shook all over. He suddenly felt a terrible need to void his bladder. "C-C-Colonel, Lord Nemesis sent me to fetch you. His orders are to contact him on Coruscant at once."

"You contact him. I don't have time to play games with him." Fett turned away and started to climb back up to his perch.

Spaarti grabbed the Mandalore's arm, surprised at his own boldness. "He asked for you specifically. He did not wish to talk to me without you there." He withdrew his hand and watched warily for the knife. _Not that it matters – he could cut my throat and I'd be dead before I realized what happened._ He could feel Fett's eyes on him despite the barrier of the dark visor.

After a few minutes, Fett bobbed his head, then turned and called for his sergeant major. He issued some instructions to the man. The sergeant major saluted and disappeared down the path leading deeper into the range. Fett brushed by Spaarti, heading for the range entrance. Spaarti hurried to keep up.

When they reached the observation tower, Spaarti saw the young clone sitting on one of the stone benches, watching them with his hollow eyes. But he wasn't really young, Spaarti mused; in fact, the boy was the oldest clone at the facility. But he wasn't grown with an accelerated growth cycle, so he appeared to be younger. The boy's growth was much faster than normal, of course – at two years old, he had the looks of a fifteen or sixteen year-old, and would likely reach his full adult size within the next few months. And he appeared to be mentally stable. _Well, as mentally stable as one could be if raised by droids in a laboratory, then turned over to a marginally sane Mandalore colonel_. Spaarti felt a twinge of guilt – he had never been around any of his clones long enough to think of them as people, but he had developed an almost paternal interest in this boy. He squashed the feeling, telling himself that his interest was purely scientific.

"Boba." Fett approached the boy, and he jumped to feet respectfully. Spaarti watched with interest as the Mandalore spoke with him for a few minutes. A brief grin flashed across Boba's face, then he whirled, his arm snapping back behind his shoulder and forward again. The weak sunlight reflected off an object spinning through the air. Spaarti gaped in horror as Boba trotted to the target and retrieved a knife with a serrated edge, a twin of the one Fett carried.

"Good, good," came Fett's raspy voice, sounding gentler than Spaarti had ever heard it. "And you can do that every time?"

"Yes, sir," Boba replied. "I've been practicing like you showed me." 

Spaarti cringed. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard the clone speak. And now instead of the high pitch of childhood, Boba's voice had the hoarse vacillation that marked the transition from boy to man. _What kind of man will he be if left to the influences of Fett and the Sith?_ Spaarti suppressed a shiver, then chastised himself: _Why are you worrying about that now?_

"Please, Colonel," he said. "Lord Nemesis is not a patient man."

Spaarti headed for the speeder, then stopped and looked at the knife target again. It was a life-size silhouette of a human male, wearing a cloak and brandishing a lightsaber. He turned away, unable to stop his shiver this time. _What in the name of the Maker do they have planned?_

**************************

Darth Nemesis glared at the holo of Colonel Fett projected onto the comms console. "No more excuses, Fett," he said with menacing calm. "You _will_ have them ready for the attack, and within the timeline specified by my master. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," came Fett's damaged voice. "But I warn you, My Lord. A raid on an unprotected colonial world is one thing, but an attack on a target of this size—"

"And I remind you again, Colonel, that this attack need be nothing more than a hit-and-fade." Nemesis' patience was fraying rapidly. "A large-scale raid, if you will. Terror is the objective, not conquest. The sheer numbers of your clone troops alone will accomplish most of my master's aims. And Professor Spaarti has assured me that plenty of soldiers will be available."

He leaned closer into the vid pickup and lowered his voice. "Leadership is what those things need, _Colonel_ Fett. If you are incapable of carrying out your missions, _Colonel_, perhaps one of you subordinates would be willing to take over." Nemesis watched the Mandalore's helmeted head lift defiantly as the implication of the words sunk in. He smiled coldly. "Good. Then you will be ready on schedule."

Fett nodded curtly and bowed. Nemesis terminated the connection, then strode quickly to the doors. He stepped out onto the balcony, ignoring the spectacular view of Coruscant's sparkling skylines as he knelt in deference. His gaze took in nothing but the permacrete of the balcony floor until he heard his master's voice.

"Arise, my young apprentice."

As always, the calm, yet lightly menacing timbre of that voice sent a thrill of terror racing through him. Nemesis rose to his feet and joined the black-cloaked figure at the balcony railing, only then allowing himself to take in the sparkling vista. Like his recent dinner companion, Senator Talador, Nemesis found the capital world an energizing place. Corruption, greed, ambition, and all the other elements the Dark Side fed on were found here in abundance, emanating not only from the dank underside of the city-planet, but from the gleaming spires of its centers of power. All of it awaiting the manipulation of the Sith.

His master, Darth Sidious excelled at that manipulation, combining shrewd maneuvering with blatant threats and the outright use of force when necessary. His skill had brought the Sith closer to their rightful place than they had been in over a thousand years. The time was at hand, and Nemesis was determined to reap the benefits. He would wield his master's iron fist, but he also excelled at the same sort of subtle exploitation that Sidious made such great use of. It was these finer distinctions that had been lost on Darth Maul. Nemesis stifled a snort of disgust at the thought of his master's previous apprentice. Certainly, Maul had been a more lethal warrior. _And look where he ended up_. Nemesis was determined that such a fate would not befall him. He would watch and wait. His time would come…

"Do not get ahead of yourself, Lord Nemesis." Darth Sidious' voice cut into his thoughts, and Nemesis felt another tremor of fear. "You are well-trained, but you have much left to learn. Do not let your ambitions get the better of you."

"Yes, my Master," Nemesis replied, bowing his head. He would have to be more careful with his thoughts. Sidious had little trouble getting around his shields, and Nemesis remembered only too well the horrendous punishments of his early training.

"Will our friends be prepared to meet our new timeline?" Sidious asked.

"Yes, Master. The professor assures me that troops will be plentiful. Fett is another matter. He claims that he needs more time to bring the clones to Mandalore standards. Since his failure on Tatooine, he has become most truculent about the their preparedness."

Sidious sneered and Nemesis sensed his master's irritation. "Yes, he did fail," the Sith Master hissed. "And I will not forget it. But I will have my prize one way or another."

Nemesis' anger boiled inside him. He wanted to demand why this Jedi was so important, what the boy had that he himself did not. Nemesis knew the Sith way – if his Master wanted a new apprentice, then he would rid himself of the old one. Or most likely, he would watch as Nemesis and the boy faced off, and would take whoever remained standing.

Sidious wore a satisfied smile. He obviously sensed his apprentice's anger, though he did not comment on it. "And what does the professor think?"

"Spaarti reports that Fett is making continual demands for changes to the flash-learning programs. It is setting them behind a bit. But they will be ready." 

"Good, good. You have done well, my young apprentice."

Nemesis felt a flash of dark joy at his master's praise. Throughout his training, he had lived for those rare moments, and they always filled him with a warmth that he guessed was akin to love. He crushed the feeling. There was a fine line between love and hate, and hate was what nurtured his power. Instead of basking in the glow of Sidious' praise, Nemesis recalled the depredations of his youth and allowed the hate to flow. Sidious chuckled, and the young Sith knew that his master felt the hate, and that he reveled in it.

"Master, may I ask why we have accelerated our plans?"

"The Jedi have been more efficient than I expected. As we speak, the money is being traced and it will not be long before they find the accounts. But no matter. Your next task is to ensure that the funds in those accounts are disbursed as we discussed, right away. Take care of that, my young apprentice, and we can upset the balance sooner than we had anticipated. Combined with the planned attack, we can precipitate a major shift in power."

"You have foreseen this, Master?"

Sidious cackled. "Not in the way you mean, Lord Nemesis. I do not need the Force to predict the reactions of the major players to the events we will set in motion." His voice sounded self-satisfied. "I know exactly what actions they will take. The galaxy will be ours. Very soon." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Now go. You have much to accomplish."

"Yes, Master." Nemesis bowed and turned to go. He had just reached the balcony doors when his master's voice stopped him.

"Lord Nemesis."

"Yes, Master?"

"You will bed the Senator?" He sounded amused.

Nemesis allowed himself a smile of anticipation. "Most likely, Master."

"Good, good. Make use of all the means at your disposal to keep her in line."

"Of course, my Master." 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Obi-Wan stood the doorway of the empty ballroom, watching as his apprentice sparred with three seeker remotes. Anakin had all of the remotes set for rapid fire, and the blade of his saber was little more than an amber blur as he deflected shot after shot, gliding and leaping gracefully across the floor to avoid the stinging bolts. Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force. It felt like a swiftly flowing river as Anakin drew on it, rolling over Obi-Wan in potent waves. He quickly closed himself off, amazed again at the sheer untapped well of power in the young man. 

The remotes shut down one by one, and Anakin deactivated his lightsaber. His bare chest and back glistened with sweat, but he otherwise showed no signs of his exertion. Obi-Wan walked across the room and cleared his throat. He knew Anakin sensed his presence and he wanted to diffuse the tension between them. "Perhaps something a bit more challenging than remotes, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan held up his hand and another training saber leaped from Anakin's carryall and slapped into his outstretched palm. He activated it and swung it toward Anakin, all in one fluid movement. Anakin lit his saber and parried just in time to keep from losing some of his hair. Obi-Wan smiled at his apprentice's round blue eyes. He almost never attacked first, and he had caught Anakin off-guard. Their sabers sparked and hissed over their heads.

Then, slowly, a large grin spread across Anakin's face. He let Obi-Wan's blade slide across his own, then spun quickly, slashing low. Obi-Wan leaped to avoid the blow, then backed up as Anakin went on the offensive. _I see his fighting style hasn't changed – he's still aggressive_. "I see you've been keeping up the lightsaber practice, Padawan."

"Yeah, if you call working out with remotes and sparring occasionally with Padmé keeping up." Anakin pressed harder, his forceful strikes backing Obi-Wan across the room.

"You taught Padmé to use a lightsaber?" Obi-Wan sidestepped on overhand swing, letting Anakin's momentum pull him off balance. He then struck out with his own fierce blow, but Anakin caught it in a deft behind-the-head parry, then slipped under Obi-Wan's blade. They circled each other. "That was hardly wise, Anakin."

A scowl crossed Anakin's face and Obi-Wan felt flickers of anger come through the Force. "They're just training sabers. And she only tried it a couple of times, out of curiosity more than anything else." He attacked again, his saber flashing in a series of lightning-fast moves that the older man was hard-pressed to defend against. "She had trouble balancing, with the lack of blade weight. So mostly we sparred with regular sabers."

Obi-Wan caught another strike with his blade. He twisted his saber to deflect the blow toward Anakin's feet, then flipped over his Padawan's head. His weapon arced towards Anakin's head before his feet hit the floor, but the young man was too quick. Obi-Wan's blade sparked against the floor and he had to leap backward to avoid a hit on his legs. He retreated, seeking a brief reprieve. He had almost forgotten how unbelievably fast his apprentice was.

"So how did you do with a standard saber?" Obi-Wan grinned when Anakin blushed. "Don't tell me she beat you!"

Anakin looked sheepish as he circled his master. "A few times, yes," he admitted. "She's really good." Obi-Wan shot him a "yeah, right" look and he cried, "Well, she is! Sabé says no one in the Palace has beaten her with a saber in over a year – including Panaka! And he trained her!"

"Whatever you say, Padawan."

Obi-Wan grinned and raised his saber to block the expected attack. It was so easy to prod the young man. But his grin soon faded as he retreated before Anakin's twirling, slashing blade, jumping and flipping to avoid being hit. A strike with the training saber wouldn't hurt him, of course, but it would leave behind an unpleasant burning sensation that lingered for hours sometimes. Obi-Wan concentrated on Anakin. He didn't like what he sensed. On the surface was mock indignation for Obi-Wan's verbal jab, but it was underlain with something darker. Anakin's face was tense, the humor gone.

Obi-Wan flipped back, just avoiding a roundhouse slash that would have neatly trimmed his beard. He gave Anakin a light Force push, trying to create some breathing room for himself. His apprentice stumbled back a few steps. They circled again, trying to regroup.

"We seem to have drawn an audience, Padawan." Obi-Wan jerked his head toward the entrance. Both sets of the ballroom's double doors had been thrown open, and a small crowd, mainly female, had gathered to watch. Jahn Elluis and the Queen's handmaidens stood at the front of the group. Sabé was shaking her head and grinning evilly. _That doesn't bode well_, Obi-Wan thought. 

"That's nothing unusual, Obi-Wan," Anakin said with a cocky grin. "You know the women can't resist me."

Obi-Wan snorted and rolled his eyes. "No wonder you're not wearing a shirt. It won't fit over that enormous ego of yours."

Anakin laughed and Obi-Wan smiled as he sensed his apprentice's tension drain away. "Shall we put on a show for them, Padawan?"

Anakin grinned again and attacked. Their lightsabers whirled and flashed as the two Jedi stepped up their movements, adding flamboyant leaps and flips for the benefit of the audience. They used the entire space of the ballroom, moving across the marble floor in a fluid and graceful dance.

A new presence caught Obi-Wan's attention, and he glanced over to see the crowd part for Queen Amidala, robed and painted for Court. He hesitated for a moment, then recovered quickly and looked at Anakin. Fortunately, his apprentice had also been distracted by the Queen's arrival, and did not take advantage of Obi-Wan's lapse.

Anakin leaped to avoid a low swipe, then somersaulted over Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan whirled to meet him and saw a strange look pass over the young man's face. Obi-Wan felt a wave of bliss and desire pass through the Force as Anakin faltered, and realized that he had touched the Queen's emotions. Taking advantage of the opening, he stepped forward quickly and knocked Anakin's saber from his grasp. It slid across the floor. Obi-Wan called it to his hand as he switched off his own saber.

"You lost your focus, Padawan—" Obi-Wan broke off as he realized that Anakin was paying him no attention. He was staring at the Queen, who gave him a slight smile before turning to leave the room. The rest of the crowd drifted away. Jahn Elluis lingered for a minute, obviously wanting to speak with Obi-Wan, but left when Sabé said something to him and tugged insistently on his arm. She flashed a wicked grin at Anakin as she led Elluis away. Obi-Wan shot her a mental thank-you.

They packed the equipment into Anakin's carryall, then sat down and leaned up against the wall. Both of them were sweaty and panting from their duel. They rested for a few moments as the awkward silence stretched between them. Anakin seemed like he wanted to say something, so Obi-Wan waited patiently for younger man to speak.

Finally, he did. "I apologize for my behavior last night, Obi-Wan. It was inexcusable."

"Your grief and anger are understandable, Padawan. I felt much the same when Qui-Gon was killed."

Anakin's voice wavered. "I promised her, Obi-Wan. I promised I'd come back and free her. I'm the Chosen One! Why couldn't I save my own mother?" He dropped his face onto his arms, muffling his next words. "Then when you didn't come for me…"

Obi-Wan did not know how to respond. He settled for placing a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, wondering briefly about the angry scar on his upper arm. He wanted to tell Anakin that his first instinct had been to follow him, to try to help his troubled apprentice. He wanted say that he had been worried sick, that the only reason he didn't come was because the Council had forbidden it. But he kept silent. Ani had enough issues with the Council without adding this. And as much as he regretted Shmi Skywalker's death, Obi-Wan hoped that it would finally allow Anakin to move on, to fulfill his incredible potential without the specter of his mother's enslavement hanging over him.

Anakin was silent for a long while before speaking again. "How did you do it, Obi-Wan? How did you keep going after Qui-Gon died? What kept you from going insane?"

_I almost did go insane_, Obi-Wan thought, feeling a familiar dull ache in his chest. "You did, Ani. Every time I thought that I couldn't stand it any more, you were there. My master's legacy, reminding me that that life goes on, that there were concerns outside my own personal worries. You needed me, and it was Qui-Gon's dying wish that I train you. I honor his memory by doing so." 

"What's the point now, Obi-Wan? Every childhood dream I ever had centered on becoming a Jedi and freeing my mother and the other slaves in Mos Espa. Well, my mother is dead and Mos Espa is a pile of rubble. It may have been a dusty armpit inhabited by scum and rabble, but it was my _home_. And I couldn't stop its destruction."

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "As painful as it is, Padawan, I'm sure that your mother would want you to continue your training. She gave you up so you could follow that dream. And Qui-Gon believed in you. Finish what you started. Honor their memories by becoming a Jedi Knight." 

His eyes clouded as he caught a faint glimpse of a time yet to come. "You have a larger role to play, Anakin. You will bring balance. I don't know how or when, but it will be a bold, selfless act to overcome great evil." But even as he saw this, Obi-Wan felt a dark chill course through him. He controlled a shiver and smiled at his apprentice. "Until then, trust in yourself and those who care for you."

"Padmé," Anakin said softly. "I…I don't know what I would've done without her."

Obi-Wan sighed. This was not a subject he particularly wanted to broach right now. But still, it had to be addressed before the affair progressed any further. _Any further? They're lovers!_ Appealing to Padmé, who was normally levelheaded and whose judgement Obi-Wan trusted in most matters, had not worked. It had, in fact, caused a breach in his own relationship with her. Anakin would be even more difficult to convince. But he had to try.

"Anakin," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I know your feelings for Padmé are strong. But you are still a Padawan, with little time for romantic pursuits. You must devote your attention to completing your training. And Padmé, in her position as Queen, does not need the distraction any more than you do. You both do yourselves a disservice."

As he'd feared, Anakin's anger flared. "I love her, Obi-Wan. I always have. And she loves me."

He stared at Obi-Wan, eyes flashing, daring his master to disagree.

Obi-Wan tried to squash his annoyance. Why did Anakin have to be so quick on the defensive? "I'm not denying that. I know the two of you have always shared a bond. But it is madness for you to enter into such an intimate relationship so young. You are too passionate, Anakin. Remember the Code. Your feelings for her will make you vulnerable. If you give in to them, I fear they could someday be used against you."

Anakin's fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. "You said the same thing about my mother, Obi-Wan. And the only people who used my feelings for her against me were the Council members, as they refused time and again to let me free her!" He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. "I see nothing wrong with loving Padmé. Will the Council hold that against me, too?"

"The Council is aware of the bond between you and Padmé," Obi-Wan said, recalling his conversation with Yoda. "However, you know that they have always discouraged Padawans from entering into romantic affairs. All Padawans, Anakin, not just you." He held Anakin's eyes with his own. "I'm simply asking that you take a step back. Slow down and let your blood cool. Soon we will return to Coruscant. Then perhaps you will be able to consider the relationship more objectively."

__

And perhaps Master Yoda will tap dance atop the Temple Spire.

Anakin rose and grabbed his tunic and carryall. When he spoke, his voice was cold. "I do not wish to consider it objectively. I love her and I intend to marry her. Qui-Gon told me that the life of a Jedi was hard. He did not say that it had to lack love and happiness. But that seems to be what the Order strives for, at least as far as I am concerned." He walked toward the doors, then turned back to Obi-Wan, softening a bit. "But…I am glad that you came here, Obi-Wan. Even if you didn't really come for me. I…I missed you." 

"And I you." Obi-Wan gave a nod and slight smile as Anakin left. Had he healed the rift between them or just widened it? **_Master_**, he called, **_I need your guidance._** **_I know what the Council will say, and I fear it will drive him away…_**

There was no answer, just a slight swirl through the Force. Obi-Wan sat with his head in his hands and wondered if it was a portent for good or ill. 

**************************

The days passed in a whirlwind for Anakin as he settled into a routine. Though he would never admit it, he had thrived in the structured environment of the Temple and as Obi-Wan picked up his training again and started scheduling his time, Anakin felt part of his uneasiness slip away. It felt good to know he had certain things to do at certain times of the day. And he felt better, safer, with Obi-Wan around, though he detected a barrier between them that had not been there before. He knew it had to do with his relationship with Padmé. Anakin felt his Master's disapproval despite Obi-Wan's attempts to shield it from him.

Obi-Wan had not actually forbidden Anakin to see her, though Anakin sensed that he wanted to do just that. _Why give an order that you know will be disobeyed?_ And he noted the chilly interaction between Padmé and his master. Obi-Wan had obviously said something to her, though Padmé would not tell him about it. _Well, he needs to get over it – Padmé will always be a part of my life. The sooner Obi-Wan gets used to that, the better._

Anakin brooded over it. Given Obi-Wan's reaction, he could only imagine what the Council would say. Just thinking about it angered him more than he thought possible. But Padmé was his destiny and he was determined to be with her. If the Masters didn't like it, they could all take long walks through short airlocks. 

Padmé continued to work hard, though she made it clear that parts of her day were reserved for her personal life. Anakin ate lunch with her in her office, and the evening meals were casual, with no advisors, just a small group – the two of them, Obi-Wan, Jahn Elluis, and the handmaidens. The only interruptions to the relaxed environment were the arguments between Jahn and Sabé, who bickered loud and long over everything from the best weapons for close-quarters combat to the best place to obtain old hardbound books.

When Anakin commented to Padmé about the constant squabbling, she giggled and said, "I don't know for sure, Ani, but I think she kind of likes him."

"Force help him," said Anakin. "That's like sitting in front of a runaway starfreighter."

"I think he can handle her. Listen to them," Padmé said. Sabé argued using her typical mix of scathing insults and intellectual fencing. Jahn sparred with her easily, taking her insults with seeming good humor while refusing to back down. "A lesser man would have her boot prints up his back by now." 

That had drawn laughter from everyone at the table except the two debaters, who paused only a moment before going at it again. Anakin had lost track of how many topics they argued over. He just hoped Elluis knew what he was doing. Despite his initial resentment, Anakin had struck up a friendship with the lieutenant. And while he loved Sabé like a sister, she had ripped through some men's lives like a Tatooine storm, leaving behind victims who felt scorched and sandblasted. He didn't want that to happen to Jahn.

They discovered a shared fascination for fast vehicles, racing and mechanical tinkering. Jahn was fascinated with pod racing, which he had seen during a tour of duty on Malastare, and was very impressed with the fact that Anakin had actually raced pods, since humans were supposedly incapable of doing it. His admiration grew when Padmé told him that Anakin had won the Boonta Eve race as a nine year-old. Jahn, for his part, regaled Anakin with tales about the Republic Scouts and the Roolia Wilderness Trek. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in exasperation when they dug up a rusty and dented old Naboo speeder bike from the Theed boneyard and set up shop in a remote corner of the main Palace hangar. They had it up and running in no time, though it still looked like a piece of junk. Jahn found out about a race held annually in the Naboo mountains near Padmé's home and they talked enthusiastically about entering their bike. But Obi-Wan put his foot down on that one. He'd had one too many bad experiences with Anakin's racing. 

But Anakin's favorite part of the day was sunset, when he and Padmé would sit on the balcony off of her chambers, taking in the brilliant pink and gold hues of the coming twilight, with no handmaidens, Jedi Masters, or advisors to disturb them. They often talked until the wee hours, when an irritable and rumpled-looking handmaiden would come out to the balcony and tap her chrono pointedly. Anakin used Jedi techniques to compensate for the lack of rest, but he wondered how Padmé got through the tedium of Court on so little sleep.

Tonight, he sat waiting for her earlier than usual. Obi-Wan had finally given up on trying to get him to meditate. He had lectured Anakin several times before Anakin angrily replied that he saw little use in meditation and did not want to waste his time with it. Truth was, he had tried a few times, but what he felt left him afraid to touch the Force in that manner. 

He still had nightmares about the battle in the ruined city and his mother's burned and broken body. But his meditative visions frightened him even more. Rivers that ran red, boiling like a bloody cauldron; fire, inside and out, that burned and consumed him, choking him with noxious fumes and the stink of sulfur. Fire that destroyed him, but somehow not completely. The images often had a strange cast to them, as if viewed through a filter. And in the background, constantly, a harsh, raspy noise that rose and fell at a measured pace. He emerged from these visions pale and sweaty, his skin hot to the touch, his heart threatening to break through his chest. 

He knew Obi-Wan was suspicious of his refusal, but he didn't care. Perhaps when he returned to the Temple, he could seek out Master Billaba or Master Htapme for help. Until then, he was determined to avoid meditation like a plague.

Padmé stepped onto the balcony and Anakin gaped at her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. She wore a simple white shift and the setting rays of the sun cast a golden halo around her head. Her feet were bare_. Are you an angel? They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe... _But he couldn't get the words out. He settled for taking her hand and pulling her into his lap.

She gave a little cry of surprise, then snuggled close to him. Anakin thought he might go into sensory overload. Her body was warm and she smelled of soap and roses. The distant rumble of the falls blended in harmony with the low, steady sound of her breathing. His throat tightened and he squeezed her hard, letting up only a little when he heard her gasp for air.

Taking Padmé's face in his hands, Anakin brushed his lips over her forehead. Then he gently kissed her eyelids, cheeks, chin, and nose. By the time his mouth found hers, her body was trembling. She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss. Anakin groaned as she pressed against him. They hadn't been intimate since the night of Obi-Wan's arrival, and Anakin suddenly wondered how he'd been able to keep himself from her.

He pulled his lips from hers and kissed his way down her neck, his pulse quickening as she sighed softly. He pushed aside the shoulder of her shift to plant kisses on the soft skin there. Her fingers wove into his hair, holding him close. His hands caressed her back before moving around to explore more boldly. Padmé arched into him, whispering his name.

"AHEM!"

They jumped. Padmé leaped to her feet, her face bright red. Anakin groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. Then he turned to glare at Sabé.

The handmaiden did not wear her usual wicked grin. Instead, she studied the marble floor until Anakin and Padmé had time to compose themselves. Then she looked up and said, "I apologize for the interruption, Your Highness. Minister Tréas reports that his staff has completed its analysis of the information provided by Jedi Kenobi. You asked to informed right away."

Padmé took a deep breath. "Yes. Thank you, Sabé. Has Jedi Kenobi been informed?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Eirtaé called him. He will be waiting in your office." Sabé stepped aside as Padmé swept back into her chambers, then said to Anakin, "Obi-Wan would like for you to join him in the Queen's office."

"Okay." Anakin stood up and adjusted his clothing. He looked at Sabé and saw the familiar smirk.

"Pants a little uncomfortable now?" she asked, her grin broadening.

Anakin took a menacing step toward her. Sabé's eyes widened as she realized the danger. She tried to escape into the Queen's chambers, but Anakin was too fast. He grabbed her and threw her up onto his shoulder like a sack of grain. He looked around thoughtfully, ignoring her demands to be put down. When she started beating on his back, he shifted her across both shoulders and clamped hold of her wrists. Finally he trotted down the balcony steps and crossed the gardens.

"Anakin, where are you taking me?" Sabé demanded. She struggled violently and Anakin felt like he was trying to hold down a wriggling wildcat. He disregarded her protests until he reached his destination. "Anakin Skywalker, put me down right now!"

"Whatever you say, Sabé." Anakin pulled her from his shoulders and tossed her out into the middle of the fountain. She shrieked and landed with a huge _splash!_ He grinned as she surfaced, sputtering and coughing. The water rained down on her from above, plastering her hair across her eyes. When she got to her feet and sloshed blindly to the edge, he couldn't hold it in any longer. Sabé pushed her wet hair out of her face and scowled fiercely as he howled with laughter.

Anakin only laughed harder as Sabé hitched up her dripping skirts and clambered out of the fountain. Her brown eyes flashed murderously as she launched a right hook that he barely managed to dodge. "You realize, Jedi-Boy, that this means war?"

Anakin swiped away tears. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then jumped away from her swinging fists. As he trotted back toward the balcony, he heard her shout something about a Gungan electropole. _This is gonna be fun…_

Padmé was seated at her vanity as Rabé helped her with her hair. She turned to look at Anakin as he crossed through the main room to the door. "I thought I heard screaming," she said. "Is everything all right?"

Anakin flashed her a huge grin as he escaped through the door. "It is now." 

**************************

Darth Nemesis strode quickly through the dank hallways of the Government Center's forgotten lower levels. Small creatures of every description scurried away from his booted feet. Despite his many trips down here, Nemesis was continually amazed and disgusted by the wide variety of beings that took up residence in the forsaken bowels of Coruscant. The only things they had in common were large eyes, adapted to the constant darkness, and fear of anything that descended from above.

As Government Center's newest levels had begun stretching into the stratosphere, its bottom floors were left to mildew and decay. Coruscant's civil engineers descended to the bowels on occasion to check the structural integrity of the buildings. They left behind power supplies and computer ports, which Nemesis put to work for his master in a dungeon-like room.

He threw open the door and the room's single occupant jumped, then cowered in terror. "Are the transfers complete?" Nemesis demanded.

The little Sullustan spun from his keyboard and blinked his large black eyes spastically. "Y-y-yes, my Lord," he answered in a quavering voice.

"And the holding companies? You made the appropriate changes to their records?"

"Y-yes, my Lord."

"Show me."

Nemesis bent over the data screen as the slicer showed him the transfer of funds from the supposed coffers of BioRep to the personal accounts of over fifty influential Senators and Republic officials. Then he went over the documentation for the various companies involved in the venture, showing major shareholders and the distribution of dividends among them.

"Has anyone attempted to access these records?"

"Yes, my Lord." The slicer sounded more confident. "But all the requests came through legitimate channels, and I added several additional layers of security to those avenues. Their authentication procedures are now very time-consuming. I was able to make the necessary changes while they were waiting for access. Whoever made those requests will see the information I just showed you."

"Impressive." Nemesis was feeling a bit generous, having just returned from a satisfactory evening with Senator Taladore. She had found it…fulfilling as well, and Nemesis knew that he would have no problems whatsoever controlling her. Yes, everything was coming together quite nicely. "I take it you erased all traces of your presence in the system."

"Of course, my Lord," the Sullustan answered, sounding a bit indignant.

Nemesis' eyes narrowed. "Are you certain that no one can retrace your path? I understand that you are supposed to be the best, but your modifications must not be discovered."

The slicer scoffed. "I _am_ the best. There's only one, maybe two other slicers that could even hope to attempt what I just did."

The Sith raised his eyebrow. "And who might they be?" The Sullustan rattled off two names, unaware that he had just signed their death warrants. "Now, did you put in the back door?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Show me."

The Sullustan walked him through the path he had set up to secretly access the personal accounts of hundreds of Senators and government officials that Darth Sidious felt could cause him trouble. When Nemesis was satisfied that he understood the process, he asked, "It is untraceable?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Nemesis probed him with the Force. He may no attempt to be subtle, and the creature squirmed under the pressure on his mind. When the Sith Lord felt assured that the slicer spoke the truth, he brutally wrapped the Force around the Sullustan's brain and crushed it. The alien let out a high-pitched, keening cry and collapsed to the floor, blood trickling from his eyes, nose, and ears.

Eyeing the corpse with disgust, Nemesis levitated it and guided it out of the room and down the hall to the nearest garbage-pit access door. Opening the door, he Force-tossed the body down the chute, sending it to join the untold millions of tons of Coruscant trash generated every day.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Anakin's hands danced nimbly across the controls of the Naboo Royal Starship, bringing the sleek silver craft to a gentle touchdown on a Senate VIP landing platform. He glanced over his shoulder at Padmé and cracked a grin. "Not bad, huh?"

Padmé rolled her eyes. "You know, Ani, Ric might have let you fly if you had asked him. It wasn't really necessary to do the Mind Trick on him. And you'll have plenty of other opportunities to show off for me."

Anakin gave her a wounded look. "You think I did all that just to show off for you?"

"I'm afraid you're rather transparent, Padawan," Obi-Wan chided from the co-pilot's seat. "Padmé has hardly forgotten about your piloting skills. And using the Mind Trick on Captain Olié was unwarranted. I feel sure he would have let you fly had you asked."

"You two are no fun at all," Anakin grumbled as he powered down the engines.

Padmé gave his braid a gentle tug, then kissed his cheek. Anakin turned and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Obi-Wan studied the ceiling, pretending to ignore the affectionate gestures. Anakin knew that such demonstrations made his master uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He wanted to stand on top of the Temple Spire and shout to the entire galaxy that he loved Padmé Naberrie. 

Padmé raised the hood of her flame-colored handmaiden's gown, and Anakin saw a brief glimpse of the pretty teenager he had first met. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must go attend the Queen," she said wryly.

In accordance with their standard procedure when faced with uncertain conditions, Padmé and Sabé had swapped places. Although this was not a dangerous situation, Padmé said she wanted to study the reactions to her arrival from the anonymity of her handmaiden's guise.

Anakin finished the post-flight and made his annotations in the pilot's log, then he and Obi-Wan joined the Queen's party at the ramp. Anakin stifled a grin at the sight of Prince Bail Organa, who was gallantly offering the Queen – Sabé – his arm. With all the confidence of the true Queen, Sabé smiled warmly and took the proffered arm. Behind her, Padmé winked at him from beneath her hood. Anakin watched Sabé with renewed respect at how smoothly she assumed the Queen's role. If he didn't know about the deception, he would be hard-pressed to tell the difference.

They had stopped over on Alderaan to bring the Viceroy up to speed on the latest information on the clone army. Organa was as outraged as Padmé over Obi-Wan's revelations and had insisted on accompanying them to Coruscant. Anakin understood why Organa wanted to go to the capital. What he didn't understand was why the Viceroy couldn't travel on his own ship. He owned a whole fleet of them. 

The Prince's presence still stirred his jealousy, though he worked hard to control it. In Organa, Anakin saw everything that Padmé deserved – wealth, privilege, power that would last beyond the next election. If she married him, her descendents would rule one of the Republic's most important and influential systems. And to add insult to injury, Organa even looked like a fairy-tale Prince: tall, dark, and handsome. _With everything else he has going for him, why can't he at least look like a Hutt?_

Anakin's insecurity began to nibble at him again. Why was Padmé with him when Organa could give her so much more? He could offer her only himself. And he was certainly less than she deserved.

He snapped out of his reverie as the ramp lowered and the Queen's party descended to the platform. Senators Antilles and Bibble awaited them, but to Anakin's surprise, the Supreme Chancellor was not there. Palpatine had always made it a point to receive his Queen when she visited the capital._ Something big must be going on if he's not here to greet two important planetary leaders._

His heart sank a bit when he saw Mace Windu and Adi Gallia waiting off to the side of the platform. Anakin knew he would have to face the Council eventually, but he was hoping to at least talk to Padmé for a few minutes before returning to the Temple. He threw a longing look at the backs of the Royal party before turning towards the two Jedi.

Obi-Wan and Anakin approached the Masters and bowed. Master Windu cocked an eyebrow at Anakin's Naboo pilot's uniform, but said nothing other than, "Welcome back, Obi-Wan, Padawan Skywalker."

"Yes, welcome back," echoed Master Gallia, her brown eyes filled with concern. She pulled Anakin into a warm embrace. "We've been worried about you, Anakin."

"Thank you, Master," Anakin replied, awkwardly returning the brief hug.

"The Council will convene in one hour," Master Windu said to Obi-Wan. "You and your Padawan are expected. We are most anxious to hear your report." He turned his cool dark eyes on Anakin. "And yours as well, Padawan. I'm sure you will have some interesting explanations for your recent activities."

Anakin tried and failed to keep the color from rising in his face. "Yes, Master," he answered tightly. He thrust his hands into his pockets and silently followed the Masters from the platform.

*****************

Anakin stood slightly to the right and behind Obi-Wan as his master delivered his report to the Council. Despite his many trips to the place, Anakin could never quite shake the sense of uneasiness he experienced every time he stepped into the center of the circle. To most Jedi, the Council Chamber was an abode of wisdom and experience, where they sought guidance and enlightenment. To Anakin, it was a place of judgement. When he stood among the Masters, he felt all of their eyes on him – probing him, questioning him, assessing him. And finding him wanting.

Try as he might, Anakin could never shake the memory of his first time in this room. A scared little boy, shivering with the cold, missing his mother desperately, standing in the center of these twelve intimidating beings who looked at him as one might a germ under a microscope.

(Afraid, are you?)

(See through you, we can.)

Anakin fidgeted and looked down at his Jedi tunics. After his time in the pilot's uniform, they felt almost alien. He briefly fingered his new lightsaber, the one with Padmé's gem in it. He hadn't had the chance to really test it out yet. 

"Padawan Skywalker!"

Master Windu's voice jerked him back to the present. "Yes, Master?"

"Have you anything to add to your Master's report?" Windu's voice sounded amused.

Anakin hadn't heard a word Obi-Wan had said for the past ten minutes. "Uh…no, Master."

"Paying attention, you were not!" scolded Yoda. He rapped his stick on the floor several times before pointing it at Anakin. "Keep your mind on what you are doing, you should, hmmm? Dwell not on past hurts!"

Anakin flushed, angry with himself for being so open with his thoughts. He squirmed under Yoda's piercing blue gaze.

Adi Gallia came to his rescue. "Anakin, we understand that you fought some of these clones on Tatooine. Can you tell us what you sensed when they were near? How did they appear in the Force?"

"Odd, Master." Anakin explained the buzzing pressure he felt in the presence of the Mandalore warriors, how it had impeded his access to the Force. The Masters asked him pointed, detailed questions, nimbly drawing the impressions from his memory and allowing him to build a clearer picture of what he had faced. 

"Can you think of anything else, Padawan?" asked Master Windu.

"Yes, Master. I fought a big Mandalore who appeared to be the leader. He had four gold stripes on his arms. I'm sure that he was not a clone – his Force presence was normal. He was armed with a different weapon. A long staff with a very sharp hooked blade on the end of it, and he was very skilled with it. My lightsaber would not cut through the staff."

Yoda and Windu exchanged glances. "Cortosis," Windu said. Then he looked at Anakin with raised eyebrows. "How did you defeat him?"

Anakin lowered his gaze to the floor. "I…I didn't. He slashed my right arm and broke the hilt of my lightsaber."

Master Piell leaned forward. "Then how did you escape, Padawan?"

"I…I was rescued, Master. By…" He trailed off, not willing to talk about Padmé.

"Know about Queen Amidala, we do, Padawan," said Yoda. "Spoken to your Master about sending her, we have."

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw Obi-Wan look at the floor. He felt his Master's regret and distress come through the Force, and his pent-up anger suddenly blazed brightly. For his mother, for his Master, for Padmé, for himself, for everything he had been through since leaving Coruscant.

"He wouldn't have sent her if you had let him come and help me!" he yelled. His rage pushed away any intimidation that might have lingered. "As a matter of fact, none of this would have happened if you had let me go sooner!"

"Padawan Skywalker," Master Windu began, "we understand your grief—"

"NO, YOU DON'T!" Anakin roared. "You don't understand, and you don't really want to! All you care about is the fact that you were right about me! You regret allowing me to be trained! All you really feel is relief that she is dead, hoping that my _distraction_ died with her!" 

He noted the brief flickers of surprise that came through the Force. "Yes, I know you are relieved! I can sense it! I'm the _Chosen One_, remember? You can't hide anything from me!"

His right fist clenched and unclenched next to his lightsaber as he struggled to calm his voice. He looked at each of the Masters in turn. "The Chosen One," he sardonically. "You continually told how much potential I had, yet you ignored my visions and refused to let me help those who needed it most. Maybe if you left this ivory tower every once in a while, you could see what really goes on out there. So much for the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. Guardians of your own interests, I say!"

Obi-Wan touched him on the arm. "Please, Anakin…"

"Save it, Obi-Wan." Anakin shook off his Master's hand and stormed from the Council Chamber, ignoring Master Windu's heated orders to return.

***********************

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin's retreating back, shocked by the outburst. His Padawan had always been headstrong, and disobedient at times, but he had never shown the sort of contempt and disrespect that he had just directed at the Council. Obi-Wan slowly turned and looked at the Masters, embarrassed by Anakin's behavior.

"Masters," he began, "I apologize—"

Mace Windu raised his hand, cutting him off. "His control is non-existent, Obi-Wan. His grief is powerful. He must learn to master his emotions."

"His grief is not the most worrisome thing," said Depa Billaba, concern creasing her smooth brow.

"Correct, she is, Obi-Wan," agreed Yoda. "Young Skywalker's anger dominates him. Uncertainty has always loomed near him. But closer now, the shadows gather."

Obi-Wan stared at the tiny green Master in disbelief. What was Yoda suggesting? He felt his own brief surge of anger at the insinuation. Anakin was grief-stricken, that was all. Understandably heartsick over his mother's passing, and not old enough yet to really understand that death was a part of life. Not unlike Obi-Wan himself had been. 

But Anakin's feelings for Padmé made his situation more complex and Obi-Wan knew he had to tell the Council about it.

"Masters," he began, "the circumstances are further complicated by Padawan Skywalker's feelings for Queen Amidala. They have entered into…an intimate relationship."

"How intimate?" Master Windu asked bluntly.

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. "They are lovers."

Something thick and heavy seemed to settle over the Council, and Obi-Wan watched as they silently communicated with one another. Finally, Master Billaba said, "Characterize his feelings, Obi-Wan. Are you sure this is not merely a physical relationship? They are both young, after all, with all of the inherent wants and urges of youth."

Obi-Wan looked at his feet. How did he manage to end up in these situations? _Qui-Gon never had to stand in front of the Council and answer questions about my love life!_ He felt a swirl of amusement come through the Force, and directed a mental raspberry at it. 

"Anakin never does anything halfway, Master," he answered. "He loves her – or at least he thinks he does."

More silent communication. The Masters did not share their thoughts, but Obi-Wan knew the gist. Love – especially romantic love – was an emotion looked upon with skepticism by the Jedi Order. It was the root of so many darker emotions. Jealousy, covetousness, anguish, fear…and the line separating love and hatred was a precipice whose edge was not easily walked. A small bump was sometimes all that was needed to send its victim over.

Once again, it was Master Billaba who voiced the Council's question. "Does she return his feelings, Obi-Wan?"

"I believe that she does, though I have not heard her say so. My relationship with the Queen is a bit strained at the moment."

"Let me guess," said Master Gallia dryly. "You questioned her judgement. And you were tactless about it."

"Yes, Master."

Several of the Council members chuckled. "We warned you of this, Obi-Wan, yet you insisted on encouraging their friendship," Mace said sternly. "She has always preoccupied him, increasingly so as he has matured. If he cannot pull himself together, he will never become a Knight."

Obi-Wan stiffened. Would the Council use Anakin's relationship with Padmé to prevent him from becoming a Knight? Technically, they couldn't – a Padawan who passed the Trials had to be raised. The Code demanded it. But they could simply refuse to let him take the Trials, citing his lack of control and adherence to the Code as indications that he was not prepared.

"Masters," he said carefully, "Anakin is impulsive, but he is young. His twentieth lifeday is still several weeks away. Much has happened to him recently – life-changing events. He simply needs time."

Yoda rapped his stick on the floor. "Yes, much has happened. And much of it a result of his own recklessness." His normally sleepy blue eyes were wide and sharp as they held Obi-Wan's. "Dangerous, he could become, Obi-Wan. Stay close to him. May the Force be with you."

The other Council members echoed Yoda, and Obi-Wan knew he had been dismissed. Though more arguments bubbled behind his lips, he bowed silently and left the Council chambers. He started to go back to his quarters, then changed his mind and headed for the Temple Gardens instead, mulling over his thoughts as he made his way through the corridors.

Heedless of his mind, his feet carried him through the gardens to the small waterfall. As he sank onto the soft grass, Obi-Wan realized that he had been hoping to find Anakin here, brooding as usual_. He's probably with her_, he thought, _making a nuisance of himself and distracting her as she tries to take care of business_. Either that, or Anakin was engaging in his ongoing battle of pranks with Sabé. 

Obi-Wan laughed in spite of himself. He wasn't sure what started it, but the two had played a series of increasingly embarrassing practical jokes on each other. Sabé had the upper hand so far – she had lured Anakin into the Queen's shipboard throne room for what he thought was a rendezvous with Padmé. Then she somehow managed to take a holo of him clad only in his undershorts, trying desperately to cover himself while the handmaidens screamed with laughter.

Obi-Wan sobered quickly. The time Anakin had spent on Naboo had probably been the happiest of his life, despite the circumstances that took him there. He had basked in the company of people who cared about him, people who looked at him and saw Anakin Skywalker, and not the Chosen One. Despite the Council's admonishments, Obi-Wan remained convinced that he had done the right thing by allowing Anakin to pursue his friendship with Padmé. He well remembered people like Bant and Siri who had helped him get through the rough spots in his own training.

But friendship was one thing. A love affair was completely different, and something told Obi-Wan that the love between Anakin and Padmé, although quite real, was destined for disaster. He couldn't tell how, or when, but the bad feeling was there, hovering around him like an unpleasant odor.

The problem was, Obi-Wan had no idea what to do about it.

His comlink chimed, and he plucked it from his cloak. "Kenobi."

Mace Windu's deep voice came through the 'link. "Our presence is requested at a meeting in the Supreme Chancellor's office. Bring your Padawan."

"Yes, Master."

**********************

Queen Amidala watched the Supreme Chancellor carefully as he paced about his spacious office, his shrewd face pensive as he contemplated the information she had brought him. _He looks old_, she thought suddenly. _Much older than he is. The demands of this job have aged him quite a bit_.

Palpatine had seemed a bit taken aback by her presence on Coruscant, and he had not met her when she arrived, as was his normal practice. In fact, it had taken quite a bit of effort to get in to see him at all. His administrative assistant, Sei Teria, had protested this change to his schedule vehemently. Instead of his usual charm, his manner with her had been a bit impatient. _Well, he IS the Supreme Chancellor_, a little voice inside her said. _He probably has many other pressing matters than meeting with the ruler of a backwater planet, even if it is his homeworld._

But he must listen to you, her stronger voice spoke up. _This information could rip the very fabric with which the Republic is woven. And you did, after all, have a good deal to do with his elevation to this office._

Her eyes wandered the room as Palpatine paced. Senator Bibble sat to her right, uncharacteristically quiet. Bail Organa had elected not to attend this meeting – there was already enough speculation in the press about the relationship between the two rulers. Eirtaé and Saché stood beside and slightly behind her chair. Without looking, she knew that Saché monitored all the movements in the room closely, and that Eirtaé observed Palpatine, noting everything he said – and didn't say - for discussion with Bail later. 

Jedi Master Mace Windu sat opposite her, his fingers steepled in front of him, his dark face impassive. He had shown no reaction to her allegations other than a slight raising of one eyebrow. Obi-Wan and Anakin sat on the sofa to her left. Obi-Wan looked serene, as always, though his eyes hinted at something troubling him. But Anakin…

Anakin was brooding. A frown creased his brow and his eyes were that unsettling gray that she had come to associate with his temper. But it wasn't just that. He had donned Jedi tunics again, but they were much darker then the warm tans of Obi-Wan and Mace. He wore leather tabards and a black cloak. The dark clothing gave him a slightly menacing edge that Amidala found disturbing and thrilling at the same time. He was tense, like a coiled spring. She wondered what had upset him.

"This news is shocking, to put it mildly, Your Majesty."

Palpatine's voice pulled her out of her reverie, and she mentally cursed herself for allowing Anakin to distract her again. She glanced at him quickly and saw his slight smile. _And he knows he's doing it._

"Yes, Chancellor, it is," she replied. "And very disturbing."

Palpatine stopped in front of her and looked at her in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable. As if she were transparent, like he peered through the beads and face paint to see Padmé Naberrie underneath. "Your Majesty, are you certain of your information?" he asked intently. "These allegations affect some of the Senate's most highly regarded members. Ethical, influential beings that have never had even a hint of scandal around them."

__

That bothers me, too. It doesn't make sense, but the evidence is there. "Chancellor, nothing is certain. I can assure you that this information was obtained through legitimate channels in accordance with the disclosure laws that cover the finances of public officials." _Not exactly the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth._ "But the bottom line remains that we have proof that Republic money, along with that of Naboo and other worlds, has been siphoned off from defense contracts and channeled to biotechnology companies that have dabbled in cloning, and that the Senators in question have substantial financial interests in these companies. And the most notable and disturbing is this one on Etti IV, BioRep. Its founder was Professor Richtor Spaarti, who, I am sure you remember, ran the Mining Guild's clone labs."

"Your Majesty, holding stock in biotech companies is hardly a violation of Senate ethics statutes."

Amidala did not care for his patronizing tone. "I understand that, Chancellor," she said sharply. "But are they aware that these companies are in violation of Republic laws prohibiting the cloning of sentient beings? Do they know that their personal investments may be funding the production of soldiers that are attacking Republic worlds?"

She leaned forward in her chair, locking eyes with Palpatine. "We also have indications, Chancellor, that some of the less-than-ethical officials may have received direct payments from these companies. Whether that is to buy their silence on this issue or to smooth the way for certain legislation remains to be seen."

"I'm not disputing that, Your Majesty," Palpatine said smoothly. "But there is no simple solution. I cannot remove these Senators from office – only their constituents can do that, in accordance with the laws of their particular systems. The best – or worst – I can do is to confront them and possibly call for their censure in the Senate." 

He smiled at Amidala in a way that reminded her of a predator eyeing its next meal. She controlled a shiver, then said, "All I am asking at this point, Chancellor, is that your office investigate these allegations. Quietly, if you prefer not to step on anyone's toes. Perhaps when the word gets out that you are looking into the matter –" 

She raised her hand to stave off his protest. "Do not look at me like that, please, I _know_ it will leak somewhere. When word gets out, the mere potential for scandal may resolve some of it. After all, there are enormous amounts of public money involved here." 

She paused and sat back. Then she said pointedly, "The outcry would be deafening – and possibly detrimental to many careers."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed slightly, and Amidala thought she saw a flash of something dark behind the pale blue. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by a warm smile. "You are right, of course, Your Majesty. Military contracts have long leaked money like sieves, and I am overdue in doing something about it. I will have Colonel Tarkin look into it immediately. I find it very disturbing that Republic Senators may be knowingly and actively involved in financing an army that threatens our destruction."

__

Do you? "I am pleased to hear that, Chancellor. The Naboo have not forgotten the atrocities of the Trade Federation, and have no wish to see others suffer that way."

Palpatine moved back behind his desk and sat down. "I have not forgotten it either, Your Majesty. That is why I will be throwing my support behind Alderaan's military consolidation bill when Senator Antilles introduces it. The Republic must be able to defend those members that cannot or will not defend themselves."

"The bill will have Naboo's support as well," Amidala said, ignoring Senator Bibble's sharp glance. "You have streamlined the Republic bureaucracy, as you promised, Chancellor, but Corporate Sector interests have run rampant in the Republic and business considerations have taken precedence over everything else in the Senate. You would do well to bring them to heel, before they cause any more suffering. I can assure you that other leaders feel the same as I do."

She rose, signaling the end of the meeting. The Chancellor stood and gave her a small bow. As those accompanying her got to their feet, she caught a glimpse of something, something unsettling, cross Palpatine's pleasant face as he looked at Anakin. Then as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving Amidala with a queasy feeling she couldn't explain. 

*********************

Amidala pondered the meeting with Palpatine as she, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and her handmaidens made their way back to the Naboo apartments. Senator Bibble had returned to his office, but not before they had engaged in a rather heated argument over Alderaan's military legislation. Bibble was a pacifist of the old Naboo tradition, and he correctly pointed out that the Gungans would make up the bulk of Naboo's forces, and that she should get their support before backing the bill. Which was true, she conceded, but she felt certain that the Gungans, with their warrior traditions and dislike for heavy-handed outsiders, would agree to the proposal.

And what was it about Palpatine that disturbed her so much?

"There was one thing I found puzzling, Your Highness," Eirtaé said, breaking into her thoughts.

"What was that?"

"This company – BioRep? – on Etti IV. Given who its founder is, it would be the prime suspect for producing the clones. Yet Etti's Senator, Letia Talador, is not among those who have supposedly received payments from these companies. And she has no investments in BioRep."

Amidala frowned. "Why do you find that puzzling, Eirtaé?"

"Letia Talador is, by reputation, one of the most ruthlessly ambitious members of the Senate. Nothing of significance happens on her world – or in the Corporate Sector in general - without her knowing about it, and having her fingers in it, if it is profitable. Yet, there is a biotech company possibly producing human clones right under her nose, and she's not benefiting from it."

"Not openly, anyway," said Amidala.

Obi-Wan scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Eirtaé is correct, Your Highness. It certainly does not fit with what we know about Senator Talador. But our searches, legitimate and otherwise, turned up nothing to implicate her."

"Perhaps whoever is behind this intended to freeze her out of it," Amidala offered. Obi-Wan nodded, but she could tell that he was not satisfied with that explanation. She would have to mention Eirtaé's observation to Palpatine. Senator Talador would most likely find herself under closer scrutiny, both from the Supreme Chancellor's office, and from the Jedi.

As they approached the door to the Naboo apartments, Anakin, who had been walking ahead of the group, raised his hand to signal them to stop. The guard at the door was immediately on alert, his hand dropping to his weapon. Anakin gestured for him to keep it holstered. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned and put a finger to his lips. Amidala saw Obi-Wan's exasperated expression and wondered what Anakin was up to now.

Grinning broadly, Anakin stepped up to the door and opened it soundlessly, then put his finger to his lips again as he motioned for everyone to follow him. They moved quietly through the foyer to the edge of the sitting room, where Anakin, still grinning, stopped and pointed.

Amidala barely smothered a laugh. Sabé and Jahn Elluis were on the sofa, kissing, their arms around one another, completely oblivious to their audience. Anakin crossed his arms over his chest and half-closed his eyes, concentrating on something.

Jahn and Sabé's kiss quickly became more impassioned, almost desperate. Sabé ran her fingers through his hair and unhooked the collar of his uniform tunic, jerking the zipper down. Jahn opened the outer cloak of Sabé's dress and yanked it off her arms, tossing it to one side. Then he laid her back on the cushions and buried his face in her neck. Sabé moaned and pushed his tunic off his shoulders.

Amidala stared wide-eyed. She looked up at Anakin's grinning face and he winked at her. _He's using the Force to stir them up,_ she realized. A quick glance at Obi-Wan, who looked both amused and aggravated, confirmed her suspicions. When Jahn had Sabé half undressed, Anakin put his fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly.

Sabé shot up immediately, dumping Jahn to the floor and pulling her dress closed as their audience burst into laughter. Her face burned bright red as she looked around at the group. Eirtaé and Saché were doubled over in mirth, and even Obi-Wan was laughing. Amidala felt her white makeup streaking as tears ran down her face. She laughed even harder when Rabé and Yané came from the back of the apartments and stared at them in confusion.

"Oh, _I'm sorry_," Anakin said to Sabé. "Did you two want to be alone?"

Sabé's eyes were like lasers as she shrieked and launched herself at Anakin. He leaped out of her way, laughing, and ran for the door. Sabé bolted after him, her angry screams echoing through the hallway along with Anakin's raucous laughter.

Obi-Wan chuckled as he went over to the bewildered Jahn and helped him to his feet. "I thought you were going check in over at Headquarters."

"I was," Jahn said as he accepted his uniform tunic from Amidala. "But I stopped by here to see Sabé and we got a little…sidetracked, I guess." He smiled sheepishly and ran his fingers through his short blond hair.

Amidala wiped the tears from her face, smearing her makeup. "I apologize, Jahn," she said, still giggling. "You seem to have gotten caught in the middle of Ani and Sabé's little war." She accepted a washcloth from Rabé and cleaned her face.

Jahn shook his head ruefully. "I don't know what happened," he said. "We were just kissing, then all of a sudden I wanted to…." He flushed and looked at Amidala. "Sorry, Your Highness."

"It's all right, Jahn, I'm Padmé now," she said, reaching up to unpin the beaded headpiece. "And don't feel bad - I think Ani probably used the Force to "encourage" you both a bit. Isn't that right, Obi-Wan?" She pulled the headpiece off and sighed in relief as her hair tumbled free.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Yes, I will have to speak to my Padawan about using his powers in that manner. It is most unbecoming a Jedi."

Jahn chuckled as he pulled on his tunic and zipped it up. "Don't worry about it. That was probably the only way I would ever get to touch her like that."

"I wouldn't count on it," Padmé said archly. The other handmaidens laughed in agreement.

Jahn reddened and ran his hand through his hair again. "Well, anyway…." He straightened his uniform. "I'm going to report in. I guess I'll be reassigned again." He extended his hand to Obi-Wan. "I really enjoyed working with you. It'll be a long time before I get another assignment that's anywhere near as interesting as this one."

Obi-Wan shook his hand. "I enjoyed it as well. You're a fine man, a credit to the officer corps. I hope you will end up in a position that takes full advantage of your skills."

Jahn took Padmé's hand and bowed over it. "Your Highness, it's been an honor. And a pleasure." He grinned, and Padmé was struck by his boyish manner. _So like Anakin. No wonder Obi-Wan took an interest in him. _

"The feeling is mutual, Jahn. If I can ever do anything for you, please don't hesitate to ask." She squeezed his hand. 

Jahn said goodbye to the handmaidens and left. Padmé felt a pang of regret at his departure. _He would be good for Sabé._

Rabé stepped up behind her and Padmé lifted her hair so the handmaiden could unfasten the tiny hooks on her gown. Obi-Wan turned to go. "Wait, Obi-Wan," Padmé said. "We…we need to talk." Noting his uncomfortable look, she added with a smile, "Don't worry; I'm fully dressed under this tent."

Obi-Wan waited until Padmé had slipped out of her gown, revealing a white bodysuit with matching knee-high boots. Rabé quickly braided her hair and wrapped into a neat bun. Padmé dismissed the handmaidens and motioned for Obi-Wan to sit down on the sofa with her. They were quiet for several minutes, and Padmé felt the tension between them as she pondered what to say. _I used to be able to talk to him as easily as I can to Anakin. What has happened?_

"Obi-Wan—"

"Padmé—"

They laughed a little, then Obi-Wan gestured broadly and said, "Ladies first."

"I don't want hard feelings between us, Obi-Wan," Padmé said. "Can we put aside our differences, for Anakin's sake?"

"I harbor no ill feelings towards you, Padmé," he replied. "I question the wisdom of your involvement with him, but I am not angry."

Padmé decided to let that pass. "What's wrong with him? He's been on edge ever since you went before the Council. Did he get in trouble because of…because of us?"

"Not yet."

Padmé suppressed a sigh. _Why can't I talk to this man anymore?_ "_Will_ he get in trouble?"

His serious, sea-blue eyes met hers. "That depends on you."

"Don't be cryptic, Obi-Wan!" she snapped. "Just answer my question, please!"

He took refuge in formality. "No, Your Highness, he is not in trouble with the Council. They do not punish for having feelings." He leaned towards her, his expression grave. "But his relationship with you could jeopardize his chances of becoming a Knight. He will not be allowed to take the Trials until he demonstrates mastery over his emotions and shows that he can live in accordance with the Code."

Padmé felt tears form in the corners of her eyes and tried to blink them back. "And love is against the Code?" she asked, her voice catching.

Obi-Wan's expression softened a bit. "No, Padmé, love is not against the Code. But there are many forms of love. There is love between friends, which you and Anakin once had, and there is familial love, which is what we experience through the Master/Padawan bond." He smiled thinly. "Anakin may not think so right now, but I care very much for him."

"But the Jedi view romantic love with great suspicion. It clouds the senses of those who experience it, and has no basis in reason at all, as I am sure you can attest. It is hard-pressed to coexist with sound judgement, which is something that a Jedi – and a Queen – must have. Most Jedi never marry, though it is not forbidden. And there is still debate over whether or not such relationships are within the Code. Anakin may be forced to choose between you and the Order."

Padmé dropped her head to hide the tears that she could no longer hold back. Her own reactions to Anakin, the powerful feelings he evoked in her, were proof enough of what Obi-Wan said. If Anakin felt the same things, the Council would never allow him his Trials. He would never become a Knight, never fulfill his dream and the promise he made to his mother. She sat there, frozen, embarrassed by her tears, but unable to stop them as they fell onto her lap. They left small wet circles on the fabric of her leggings.

She felt Obi-Wan's hand under her chin. He gently tipped her head up so that she looked him in the face. His eyes held compassion. 

"Padmé," he said, "I know that the feelings you have for one another are real. But Anakin is special. He is already struggling with his grief and anger over his mother's death, and the Council is watching him closely. He could be the most powerful Jedi ever known, but he will never be raised if he fails to focus on his training and master himself. I am sorry to say this, but you are a detriment to him in this matter."

Padmé closed her eyes as the tears welled up again. _But I promised him…_ She knew what Obi-Wan's next words would be before he spoke them.

"Take the choice away from him, Padmé. Let him go."

**********************

Darth Sidious regarded the tiny hologram of his apprentice that projected from his comm terminal. "Everything is in place, then?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," the hologram replied. "The Mandalore are minutes from hyperspace emergence over the target. They are ready for the attack whenever you give the word."

"Consider it given. I want it to begin as soon as they reenter realspace."

"Yes, Master." Nemesis paused. "And what of the Jedi?"

"This will be the beginning of their end." Sidious' eyes narrowed. "You may deal with Kenobi as you see fit, my young apprentice, but you will bring Skywalker to me. Undamaged. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my Master," Nemesis replied. 

Sidious smiled at the rage in the younger man's face. He knew that Nemesis had no intention of bringing him the boy. He would try to kill him instead, and then Sidious could see if the boy's skill truly measured up to the raw power that boiled within him.

"Patience, my young apprentice. The Sith have been waiting for a millenium. You will have your revenge."

Nemesis bowed. Sidious cut the transmission and sat back in his chair, a smile of anticipation flitting across his lined face. Yes, everything was coming together quite nicely. Queen Amidala and Bail Organa had reacted to the information he fed them in precisely the manner he had expected. Soon, the more bothersome elements in the Senate would be swept aside and his rise to power could begin in earnest.

And the troublesome Queen… He would have to decide what to do with her. It would be most enjoyable just to kill her, but she was an influential voice and he could put her to good use. And young Skywalker loved her. She could be used to keep him in line if necessary. 

Sidious sneered. Once he had Skywalker in his grip, he would purge the boy of such weakness. Yes, that would be much more satisfying than simply killing the Queen – she would watch helplessly as the man she loved came to despise her, then she would die by his hand. Sidious felt a flash of dark joy at the prospect.

__

Everything is unfolding as I have foreseen. Soon, very soon, it will all be mine.

His intercom buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Sei Taria's voice came through the speaker. "Chancellor?"

"Yes, Sei?"

"Ten minutes until your next meeting, sir."

"Thank you," Palpatine replied pleasantly. "I'm on my way."

*********************

Padmé's thin shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Obi-Wan watched her with sympathy. He felt a pang of guilt for placing her in such a position. She loved Anakin and did not want to let him go, but she could not bear the thought that she might be responsible if he failed to become a Knight. Obi-Wan wanted to put his arm around her and console her, but he had never been comfortable with such gestures. Instead, he shifted self-consciously and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his cloak.

She slowly got control of herself and raised her tear-stained face to look at him. Obi-Wan felt the stab of guilt again. He sensed a slight embarrassment mixed with her distress. Padmé was not an emotional woman and he suspected that she did not cry easily. Perhaps he had underestimated the strength of her feelings for Anakin. He fumbled around in his cloak and came out with a small square of white cloth. He held it out and she accepted it wordlessly, dabbing at her eyes.

"Padmé, I am sorry to cause you such distress. But you must keep in mind what is best for Anakin."

Padmé sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I promised him, Obi-Wan," she said. "He felt that everyone he cared about had abandoned him in some way. I promised that I would never leave him. How can I break that promise?"

"You don't have to leave. Your friendship has always meant much to him. You can continue to care for him without being his lover."

Padmé's eyes suddenly blazed with anger. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe you are a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan. For one who is supposed to have such deep insights into the Force, you are remarkably obtuse about the vagaries of human behavior. And unbelievably ignorant about the nature of your own Padawan. Do you really think that Anakin and I could go back to where we were before? Too much has changed!" 

She shook her head in disbelief. "You would not have him control his emotions. You would have him deny them. And to deny everything that has passed between us." 

She stood and looked at him coldly. "I love him, and there is no turning back from it. I cannot be with him and not express that love for him, physically or otherwise. I would have to leave him – just like everyone else he's loved."

"But—" Obi-Wan's reply was cut off by the ear-splitting wail of a siren. 

"What is that?!" Padmé shouted above the din, putting her hands over her ears.

"The raid siren!" Obi-Wan shouted. It was a sound that he had hoped never to hear. He ran to the window and peered out at the sky. The high-pitched screaming of the alarm echoed painfully in his ears.

"Your Highness!" Obi-Wan turned as Saché's barely-audible shout reached him. The handmaiden was beckoning Padmé down the hall. He followed them into Padmé's office and out onto the balcony. The pitch of the siren was almost unbearable outdoors.

"There!" They followed Saché's pointing finger. At least two squadrons of triangular spacecraft swooped towards a large building. Bright flashes peppered the building, followed by the thundering rumble of explosions. The siren abruptly went silent.

Obi-Wan stared at the destruction, horrified. "That's the Navy's main port here on Coruscant! Most of the fighter craft are there!"

Another explosion shook the balcony, making them grab the railing for support. Over at Government Center, large boxy shuttlecraft dropped onto the landing platforms and started disgorging gray-armored soldiers. Padmé swore under her breath.

"The Mandalorians are attacking the Senate!" she cried. "Come on!"

She darted back into the office. Rabé appeared at the door and tossed her a belt with a holstered blaster on it. Padmé strapped it on as she ran through the apartments. Obi-Wan saw that the handmaidens all had their weapons out as they followed their Queen.

"Padmé, wait!" Obi-Wan grabbed her arm and swung her around. "You can't just rush headlong into this!"

Padmé jerked her arm free. "The Senate guards are armed only with ceremonial weapons. It will take some time for the reaction teams to arrive from their barracks. Until then, they will need all the help they can get!"

Obi-Wan started to protest when a powerful wave of dizziness and nausea crashed over him. He staggered. Padmé's voice was thick in his ears, and he was vaguely aware of hands on his arms, supporting him. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to bring Padmé's worried face into focus.

"Obi-Wan!" She sounded far away. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

"The…the Temple…" he croaked. "It's been attacked."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Anakin cried out as the shock and pain of the Temple attack assaulted him. He stumbled against the glass wall of the apartment building atrium and clutched his head as he slid to the floor, moaning. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, but he slowly became aware of someone calling his name.

"Anakin!" A man's voice, sounding like it was under water. "Anakin!"

"Ani, are you all right?" A woman's voice this time, worried. A warm hand touched his brow.

As the images swam back into focus, Anakin saw Jahn and Sabé kneeling beside him, their faces concerned. "Dis…disturbance…in the Force," he managed. "The Temple…." He rolled onto his side, afraid that he would be sick.

Sabé rubbed his back as he took several deep breaths. When he was fairly certain that his last meal would remain in his stomach, Anakin sat up. He remembered the blare of the siren and the rumble of explosions. The atrium was rapidly filling up with panicked beings looking for an exit. "What happened?"

"We're under attack," Jahn said grimly. He pointed toward Government Center, where they could see the gray-armored soldiers leaping from the shuttle and storming into the building. 

"Those look like the clones from Tatooine!" Sabé said. Her blaster appeared in her hand. "They're attacking the Senate!" She pulled out her comlink and had a hurried conversation.

Anakin struggled to his feet and reached for his lightsaber. "I have to get to the Temple." He swayed, and Jahn caught his arms before he could fall.

"You can't go anywhere right now, Anakin," Jahn said. 

Anakin leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The floor seemed a bit unstable.

__

That must have knocked every Force-sensitive on Coruscant for a loop. 

Sabé put away her comlink. "Padmé and the others are headed for the Senate. Apparently Obi-Wan suffered the same reaction as Anakin. He is going to the Temple to see what happened." She adjusted her grip on the blaster. "I have to go protect the Queen."

"I'm coming with you," Anakin and Jahn said at the same time.

Sabé rolled her eyes. "You're not armed," she said to Jahn. "And you're not recovered from…whatever just happened to you."

Anakin heaved himself off the wall. "I'm fine," he snapped. "And I'm not letting Padmé go into that fight without me."

"The hard part will be getting over there," Jahn said, waving his arm at the frenzied civilians crowding through the atrium.

"No problem," Anakin said. He ignited his lightsaber and plunged the blue-white blade into the transparisteel wall. He cut an opening just big enough for them to squeeze through. They crawled out onto the ledge.

The gritty winds that blew through Coruscant's canyon-like buildings whipped at their hair and stung their eyes as they crept along the half-meter wide ledge toward the elevated walkway that connected the apartment building to Government Center and other Republic official buildings. Anakin peered down at the endless drop and hoped that Sabé and Jahn had no fear of heights.

They stopped under the walkway and looked up at it with some apprehension. It was at least ten meters above the ledge. Anakin could easily jump to it, but Jahn and Sabé...

He saw Sabé fitting an ascension attachment to her blaster. _I should've known – she's never unprepared._ "Okay, you two use the ascension gun. I'll spot you from here, then I'll go. Hurry!"

Sabé fired the grappling line. She motioned for Jahn to hold on to her. He reached for the gun instead.

"Let me. I'm too heavy for you to hold."

Sabé held the gun away from him. "I am perfectly capable of pulling us both up, Lieutenant Elluis. I am not some helpless female!"

"I didn't say you were," Jahn retorted as he grabbed for the gun again. "Come on, Sabé, give it to me!"

"No, it's—"

"Would you two knock it off?!" Anakin yelled. "We're standing on a little ledge kilometers above the ground, getting ready to go into a battle, and you laser-brained idiots are fighting over who gets to hold whose gun!" He brandished his lightsaber. "Now get up to that walkway or I'll knock you both down into the garbage pits!"

The pair looked sheepish. Then Jahn grabbed Sabé around the waist and she towed them up. Anakin watched them nervously. The sounds of weapons fire and screaming were already audible from Government Center. When Jahn and Sabé were on the walkway, he leaped up to join them. 

"Come on!" he shouted. They sprinted down the walkway, their boots pounding on the metal. 

As they approached the access door to the Senate building, two Mandalore soldiers appeared, blocking their way. Anakin's lightsaber flashed, deflecting the blaster bolts. Sabé dropped the soldiers with two quick shots. They ran over to the bodies and grabbed their weapons.

"I'm armed now," Jahn said to Sabé, flashing her a cocky grin as he hefted one of the heavy blaster rifles and charged it. 

Sabé rolled her eyes as she put away her pistol and picked up the other rifle. She flipped up the faceplates of the soldiers' helmets and shook her head in disgust. "Clones."

They stepped over the bodies and entered the building. Chaos greeted them. Beings of every species ran through the wide halls, screaming. The Mandalore soldiers charged behind them, dragging people from offices and conference rooms and killing anyone that showed signs of resistance. Smoke and static filled the air.

Memories of Mos Espa in flames roared through Anakin's head. With an angry cry, he leaped into the midst of a Mandalore unit. His lightsaber twirled and slashed, cutting down the soldiers one after the other. Another squad came charging up the hallway. Anakin swung his arm, using the Force to slam them into the walls. Precise fire from Jahn and Sabé finished the job.

There was a momentary lull as the panicked crowd fled down the hall away from them. Stragglers emerged from the stairwells and side rooms and scurried past them. The three of them stood back-to-back. Anakin positioned his saber to protect them while Jahn and Sabé picked off stray soldiers with their blasters. 

Anakin stretched out with the Force, searching for Padmé. But he sensed only the agony radiating from the Temple. He gasped and closed it off before it could cripple him again.

"Sabé, can you find Padmé?" he asked. The handmaiden already had her comlink out, relaying their position to someone. 

"We're about ten levels above you." Padme's voice crackled through the 'link. "On the opposite side of the main Senate Chamber." Static. Then, "It's not wholesale slaughter. They appear to be herding people towards the Main Chamber. We're doing okay, but we'll need some real reinforcement soon." Her voice faded – she had turned away from the 'link to shout at someone. Anakin caught "Panaka," "fighters," and "rapid reaction force."

Anakin turned towards the window as two Republic Navy Headhunters flashed past, with several clone fighters in hot pursuit. Farther away, thick black smoke rolled from a large building, and he realized with a sinking feeling that most of the Republic Navy's fighter craft on Coruscant had probably been destroyed. The nearest major base was in the Corellian system. _It'll be hours before help gets here…._

"Come on! We've got to get up to Padmé!" Sabé put her comlink away and took off down the hall, Anakin and Jahn on her heels.

They skidded to a halt in front of a turbolift. Sabé stabbed at the call button. The lift door opened and they crowded in, only to have the lights flicker and the power die.

Anakin swore viciously. "They've disabled the lifts!" 

"We'll take the stairs," Sabé said, darting out. Anakin grabbed her dress and jerked her back just as two blaster bolts zinged past the door.

Jahn stuck his head out, fired a couple of quick shots, and pulled back in. "We're cut off! There's at least a platoon out there!"

Anakin lit his saber and stepped out. He deflected shot after shot while Sabé and Jahn laid down withering fire, but two new soldiers seemed to appear for every one they cut down. Anakin felt the familiar anger and desperation grow in him. He itched to jump into the clones and slaughter them, but his need to find Padmé was greater. "We don't have time for this!" he shouted. "Where is the damned reaction force?!"

"Jahn! Anakin!"

The men turned to see Sabé's boots disappear up through the turbolift maintenance hatch. "I love that woman," Jahn sighed, a giddy expression on his face.

Anakin grinned and jerked his head toward the lift. Jahn ducked inside and hoisted himself through the hatch. Anakin backed into the lift and shut the door, then jammed his lightsaber into the control panel. He leaped through the hatch, kicking it shut behind him. Almost immediately, the sound of blaster fire came from below.

Jahn and Sabé were hanging on the ladder. "Keep going!" Anakin said. He jumped and grabbed a conduit pipe that ran along the side of the shaft. The hatch door started to spark from laser fire. Dangling from the pipe by one hand, Anakin slid his lightsaber down the side of the turbolift car and ignited it. The car tilted crazily. The blaster fire from inside ceased for a moment, then resumed with greater intensity.

Anakin leaped across the shaft to the ladder and repeated his actions with the other side of the car. He watched with grim satisfaction as the car plummeted down the shaft. Several clone soldiers who had been standing in the lift's open doorway were dragged along with it. Anakin slammed the access doors shut with the Force, then scrambled up the ladder after Jahn and Sabé. 

"Jahn! Psst! Jahn!" he called softly as he caught up.

"What?"

"Quit looking up Sabé's dress!"

"I'm not looking up her dress!"

"You are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Jahn grinned down at him. "But it's such a nice view…."

Anakin canted his head. "Yeah…I guess it is, now that you mention it."

"I HEARD THAT!"

Jahn and Anakin gulped, then kept their eyes straight ahead as they continued their climb.

***************

Padmé sent a hail of blaster fire down the hallway, killing several more clones, then jerked back behind the cover of the alcove to avoid the return fire. She looked around at her small team of handmaidens and Senate Guards, scattered across the corridor. So far, they had held back the Mandalore in this section of the Center, but she knew more were coming. _At least we have some heavier weapons now_, she thought, checking the charge on her blaster rifle.

"Captain Panaka!" she shouted into her comlink. "Captain, where is the reaction force?"

Panaka's voice crackled back through the 'link. "The Senate Guard barracks were hit. They're putting an ad hoc team together, but it will take some time for them to get there."

"We don't have much time, Captain. There's too many of them. What about our fighters?"

"All of your escort fighters lifted off safely. I've seen a few Republic fighters, but the main base was hit hard. I wouldn't count on much air support."

Padmé's mind raced as she considered and discarded several alternatives. _How the hell did they manage such complete surprise? They must have taken out Traffic Control, or we would have at least SOME warning_. "Very well, Captain. Step in there and get that reaction force moving. We're all right for now, but we're badly outnumbered."

"Yes, Your Highness. Panaka out."

Padmé put away her comlink and turned to look down the hall again. A flurry of red-orange skirts caught the corner of her eye, and Saché dropped to the floor beside her, puffing.

"There's another unit coming up from the lower levels, Your Highness. We sealed and blocked the lifts and stairwells as much as possible, but if we don't move soon, we'll be trapped."

"Any civilians?"

"A few," Saché replied. "We told them to stay in their offices, under cover. These things still seem to be herding people into the Senate." A grim look crossed her face. "We appear to be the only ones fighting, Your Highness."

The screech of blaster fire cut off Padmé's reply. The Mandalore were making another push in their direction. Her team laid down withering return fire, dropping a squad of clone soldiers. Then a handful of grenades sailed towards them, spewing thick white smoke. Padmé fired blindly, her eyes watering from the stinging smoke. Suddenly the only things visible were wildly flying blaster bolts. 

Padmé coughed and squinted through the smoke, looking desperately for a target. The cries coming from around her told her that her team was being hit hard. She hoped that her handmaidens were all right. Suddenly a shadow loomed right in front of her, and she barely got her shot off as she rolled to one side. She heard a muted grunt and the Mandalore's body collapsed on top of her.

Fighting her revulsion, Padmé struggled from beneath the heavy body. As she kicked it off of her, she heard a scream, and a figure in a flame-colored dress hit the floor beside her.

"SACHé!" Padmé cried. 

She grabbed her handmaiden and dragged her into the alcove, out of the line of fire. Saché's face contorted in pain as she held her hands over her chest. Padmé felt the bile rise in her throat as she pried Saché's hands away and saw the wounds on her chest and stomach. The stench of burned flesh stung her nose. She dug her comlink out and called for Yané.

"Saché…." She hugged her friend close and looked around desperately, but saw nothing but smoke, blaster bolts and the beetle-like shapes of the clone soldiers as they moved past. Saché coughed violently, and Padmé stared in dismay as flecks of blood sprayed across her white suit. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" she screamed.

Out of nowhere, a lightsaber blade flashed. Padmé could not see its wielder, but the blade swung and slashed with incredible speed, cutting down every armored soldier in the immediate vicinity. Then Master Mace Windu emerged from the smoke. He knelt next to her and looked at Saché. 

"Can you help her?" Padmé asked, on the edge of tears.

Mace laid his hand on Saché's forehead and closed his eyes briefly. Saché relaxed in Padmé's arms. "I have eased her pain some," Mace said. "But she needs immediate medical attention."

Yané appeared and dropped next to Saché, her medic's kit already out. She grimaced at the sight of the ugly burns on her friend's torso. "Hang on, Saché, hang on," she murmured through gritted teeth as she dug through her kit. "Lay her down, Padmé."

Padmé lowered Saché gently to the floor and held her hand as Yané checked her over. She turned when Mace tapped her shoulder.

"There are more coming, Your Highness," he said. He stepped away from her and pulled his lightsaber from his belt.

Padmé squeezed Saché's hand and moved to the edge of the alcove. The smoke was clearing somewhat and she saw Rabé, Eirtaé, and two of the Senate Guards they had picked up bringing their weapons to bear. Then the armored soldiers appeared around the bend in the hallway, and Padmé and her team opened fire.

Despite the intense volume of fire, the clone soldiers kept coming. It seemed that two more appeared for every one they killed. Two of the Senate Guards were down, and Rabé's dress sported numerous burns from near misses. Even Master Windu's cloak was singed in several places. Then a Senate Guard at the front of their line went down, opening a gap in their defense. The clones surged forward.

"There's too many of them!" Master Windu shouted over the din.

"Fall back!" Padmé shouted. 

Then a barrage of blaster fire came from above and behind the charging soldiers, cutting half of them down. Padmé saw three figures drop from near the ceiling, then a blue-bladed lightsaber slashed through the remaining soldiers. Suddenly, Anakin was in front of her, his eyes cloudy, a terrifying look on his face as he swung his saber and decapitated the last two clones. Their helmeted heads rolled to a stop at her feet.

"Anakin!" she cried.

He stopped and looked at her. Then his eyes refocused and his face relaxed. "Padmé…" he breathed.

Sabé and Jahn ran up behind him, staring at the dead soldiers, then looking at Anakin with a mixture of admiration and horror.

"Calm yourself, Padawan," Mace instructed Anakin. "Your anger rules you."

Anakin glared at him as he pulled Padmé into his arms. She felt the tautness in his body. He thrummed like a live wire. She wrapped her arms around him and some of his tension drained away.

"Your Highness."

Padmé whirled around at the sound of Yané's voice. _Oh, no…_. She ducked into the alcove and knelt next to Saché. Yané looked at her and shook her head, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Padmé. I tried…."

Saché's peaceful expression contrasted sharply with the cruel burns on her chest and stomach. Her brown eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her vision blurring, Padmé reached out and gently closed her handmaiden's eyes, then pulled the red-orange hood over her face. She bowed her head and struggled to keep from breaking down.

Then she felt Anakin's breath on her neck, and his arms circled her waist and held her close. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Padmé wanted nothing more than to turn into his arms and cry. But instead she stood up and walked back into the hallway, her face impassive. When she spoke, Padmé disappeared and Queen Amidala stood in her place.

"The Mandalorians are here for a purpose. I believe we will discover that purpose in the main Senate Chamber. Ready your weapons."

All around her, handmaidens, Senate Guards, and Jedi snapped to her orders. With a fresh wave of determination, Padmé hefted her blaster and jogged down the hall towards the Congress of the Galactic Republic.

****************

The boy was very confused. He had been sitting with his friends, playing the Quiet Game where Master told them to sit still and not think about anything. Just feel. Then when he was sitting, he got a very bad feeling. Then the room started shaking and he didn't remember anything else.

And he couldn't see. He blinked his eyes to make sure they were open. They were open, so why was it so dark? It was never this dark, even at night when they went to bed, because they had a little light for Master to see them. And his arm hurt really bad. He couldn't move it. It must be a really bad hurt if he couldn't move it. And his head hurt a lot. But he didn't think it was really his head. Other people's hurts were making his head feel bad. He knew he could feel other people's hurts sometimes. 

He closed his eyes and tried to make the other people's hurts go away, like Master showed him. But his arm felt too bad. And he was scared. It was so dark. And dirty. He could feel the dirt on his face, the same way he got when he played in the dug-up beds in the gardens. Where was Master? Master always knew when he was scared and would come and hold him and talk to him in that quiet voice that made him feel warm on the inside.

And other people were scared, too. He heard them screaming and crying. But he didn't hear them with his ears. He heard them inside his head and that made him even more scared. He tried again to make the scariness and hurts go away, but he couldn't. He wanted Master bad. Bad enough to do something he knew only babies did. He opened his mouth and screamed and cried.

His throat was starting to hurt from the screaming when he saw a little bit of light. He cried harder and there was a little bit more light, like when Master opened the curtains in the morning. It hurt his eyes after being in the dark so long. He blinked and saw a man, a human man with hair on his face like they had sometimes. And he could see now that he had rocks on top of him. How did rocks get on top of him? That must be why he felt so dirty.

"Here's another one," he heard the man say. The human man pulled some rocks away, and the boy could see that he was a grown-up Jedi, like Master. The Jedi picked him up, being very careful not to touch his hurt arm, then held him close. The boy felt something warm run over him, like he did when Master held him at night. Safe at last, he clung tightly to the man's neck.

***************

Obi-Wan located the source of the screams and dug through the debris. A small Rodian boy blinked rapidly at him. His cries became more frantic, and Obi-Wan dug faster. The boy's arm was badly broken. It hung at an odd angle, and Obi-Wan saw a bone sticking through the bloody sleeve of the child's tunic.

"Here's another one," he called to Master Htapme. He pushed aside another rock and reached for the boy. The child's fear and pain screamed through the Force. Obi-Wan lifted him carefully, trying not to jar the injured arm. He hugged the boy close and sent waves of reassurance through the Force. The boy's fear subsided and he clutched Obi-Wan's neck tightly.

He just stood there for a moment, hugging the boy and trying to comprehend what had happened. The cries of terrified babies and toddlers echoed all around him. Dazed Initiates wandered aimlessly. Knights and Padawans offered what comfort they could while trying to herd them toward the lower levels. 

__

This was deliberate, Obi-Wan thought, his anger mounting. _They targeted this area_. The rest of the Temple was relatively intact, but this whole side was laid open - the living quarters, training rooms, gymnasiums, the dining hall - the most populous areas of the building. _And the Créche…_. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the horrible picture of the gutted nursery. He was sure that the memory of the tiny broken bodies and the pitiful screams of terror and pain would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But how did they know where to strike? 

Master Htapme, the Créche Master, came over and took the boy from him. "I think that's all in this area, Obi-Wan," he said, a deep sadness behind his eyes. "All of the living, anyway." He turned away, carrying the Rodian child and guiding several others toward the one functioning lift. 

Obi-Wan just stood and watched, his hands hanging by his sides. Who would deliberately target children? 

"The Sith."

Obi-Wan looked down to see Master Yoda standing beside him. "He is here, Master?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan's fist clenched around his lightsaber. "Where?"

Yoda closed his eyes. "Unknown. But he seeks something…someone." Then he looked up. "With your apprentice, you should be, Obi-Wan. He walks a narrow line. Much anger in him. Killed his mother, these creatures did. Seek revenge, he may."

Obi-Wan nodded. Outside, the ground shook, and the distant rumble of explosions reached his ears. "Will we fight, Master?"

Yoda's ears drooped. "Guardians of the Republic, we are. Its destiny is intertwined with ours."

The deafening screech of space engines split the air as a flight of Republic star fighters roared by. The Temple shook again, showering them with dust and plaster.

"Fight, we will."

***************

Padmé blasted yet another clone soldier and mentally cursed their slow advance. They had fought a half-dozen skirmishes with small units, and wasted precious time in the ventilation and turbolift shafts trying to bypass the larger ones. On the upside, they had picked up more of the blue-armored Senate guards, bringing their number up to fifteen, including two Jedi. A formidable force, despite its small size.

But not big enough to get where they needed to go in a hurry.

Their destination lay just two hundred meters beyond their current position. But they had to get past this bunch of clones to reach it. No going around, except perhaps by going back into the ventilation system, something that Padmé did not want to do. But staying here much longer would mean being trapped and encircled. There was almost no cover. Her fighters sheltered themselves in wall niches, alcoves, and behind open office doors. They offered flimsy protection at best. Decorative columns and trees afforded a bit more protection, but they were few and far between.

A blue lightsaber blade hummed in front of her, deflecting a blaster shot back to its origin. Another clone went down. _But with another to take its place_, Padmé thought grimly. She glanced up at Anakin and tried not to think about what had happened to the last Jedi who protected her in such a manner. But where Qui-Gon Jinn had been all cool competence, Anakin Skywalker was nothing but heat and barely contained anger. His eyes burned and his jaw clenched so tight that she wondered how his teeth stood it. 

"This is taking too long!" Padmé growled in frustration. "Ani, can you tell how many there are?"

He half-closed his eyes, even as he continued to deflect shots coming her way. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "All I'm getting is that weird clone-sense. Those things just aren't…right. And the Temple…." He shook his head. "There's at least twenty, probably more."

__

And they're defending, which gives them the advantage. They needed to penetrate quickly, then exploit. _Let's see…there's a crossway about a hundred or so meters behind them…_. Padmé quickly formed a tentative plan based on her knowledge of the building's layout and relayed it to the rest of her force.

When everyone was set, she unleashed another barrage of blaster fire. Combined with that of the Senate Guards positioned across the hall, it blew a hole in the Mandalore line. Padmé yelled, "Let's go!" and took off, holding her rifle across her chest as she sprinted down the hall. Behind her, the rest of the team followed. Master Windu brought up the rear, watching their backs as they advanced on the Mandalore. 

Padmé barreled into the Mandalore line. She dropped one soldier with her blaster, and plowed into another with her shoulder. Beside her, Anakin swung his saber and lashed out with vicious roundhouse kicks. The battle degenerated into hand-to-hand fighting as Padmé's team closed with the clone warriors. Farther down the hall, another contingent of soldiers advanced on them.

"Padmé!" Anakin screamed. She turned just in time to see Anakin's billowing cloak before he tackled her. He landed on top of her, driving the blaster painfully into her chest.

"Anakin, what the--?" 

He pushed her head into the floor and covered it with his arm. Less than a second later, the hallway shook as a thermal detonator ripped through the Mandalore ranks. Padmé heard the whistle of shrapnel flying past them. Two of their Senate Guards were caught in the blast and thrown back against them.

Then Anakin's weight lifted off her. Padmé raised her head to see him dashing into the smoke, lightsaber swinging. She sat up slowly, shaking her head, a bit dazed from the explosive concussion. Her thigh burned where a piece of shrapnel had grazed her, tearing her leggings. She hissed softly as she tugged the scorched fabric away from the wound. It wasn't deep, but blood seeped from it. _That's going to leave a mark_. And it hurt like hell.

As she tried to slide back against the wall, Anakin suddenly loomed over her, the same wild, unfocused look in his eyes that she had seen earlier. "Anakin, get down before you get shot!" she ordered.

"What…?" Anakin looked confused for a moment, then his features hardened. "Don't worry, they won't be attacking." He dropped down beside her.

"What happened?" Padmé asked.

"They tried to give us a thermal detonator. I sent it back to them. Then I killed the rest of them." 

Padmé saw the rips and burns in his cloak and realized how near a miss it had been. "Thank you, Ani."

"Anytime," he said with a grin. Then he saw the blood on her thigh. "Padmé, you're hurt!"

"It's just a scratch." She winced. "It smarts a bit, though."

"Obviously, I wasn't fast enough. Here, let me." Anakin pushed her hands aside and pulled the fabric farther away from the wound. Then he put his own hand over it and closed his eyes. Padmé felt a tingling sensation, and the pain subsided.

Sabé trotted up. "Your Highness, we--" She broke off when she saw Anakin's hand on Padmé's thigh. "For 'Vala's sake," she said, rolling her eyes, "can't I leave you two alone for a minute?"

Padmé reddened. "What is it, Sabé?"

"We lost three Guards to that explosion. And Eirtaé is injured."

Padmé caught her breath. _Not again…_. She struggled to her feet and went over to where Eirtaé leaned against the wall. Yané, Jahn Elluis, and Master Windu all knelt around her, while Rabé hovered worriedly.

Jahn shifted to let Padmé in next to him, and relinquished Eirtaé's hand to her. The handmaiden's face was deathly white. Padmé gasped at the sight of her leg. It was crushed. Yané cut away the blood-soaked skirt and worked desperately to staunch the flow. Eirtaé bit her lip, but the cry of pain escaped her anyway. Master Windu put his hand on her face, using the Force give her some relief. Padmé sighed as the vice grip on her hand eased up.

"What happened?"

"Column fell on her leg," Jahn said. "I think she got hit by some detonator debris, too. Probably glass."

Padmé glanced over at him. Jahn had shed his high-collared uniform tunic at some point. He now wore only his undertunic, which had once been white, but was now dingy and gray with dirt, sweat, and smoke. Padmé realized that all of them looked much worse for the wear. The handmaidens' flame dresses were scorched and filthy, and her white suit was grimy and blood-spattered. Even Master Windu looked disheveled. 

And it wasn't close to being over yet.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Darth Nemesis looked out upon the massive main Senate Chamber from his vantage point in the cam droid control booth. An impressive structure indeed, with its repulsorlift delegate boxes that allowed the representatives of each system equal access to the center of the chamber and the Supreme Chancellor's platform. In theory. In reality, Nemesis knew, the more influential systems had the most powerful repulsorlifts in their boxes. This allowed them to reach the Chancellor's platform faster, and to hover higher than those of their less powerful counterparts. 

Nemesis snorted; the politicians made their speeches to the cam droids and to the moneyed donors who kept them in office, not to each other. And certainly not to their constituents back home, who only crossed their minds when it was time to actually show their faces for the election. _Democracy in action. Or inaction_.

The hypocrisy of the Republic sickened Nemesis. These popularly elected officials, these selfless public servants who were supposedly so dedicated to the well-being of their people, were in truth no different from the Sith and the Mandalore. They wanted what all sentient beings truly desired: power, pure and untainted. Dominance over all, the pleasure that came from bending others to one's will. The Sith and Mandalore were straightforward about their aims, unlike these charlatans of the Republic who hid their thirst for power behind the soothing words of lofty democratic principles and the soft veils of diplomacy.

And the Jedi were no better. For all their talk of balance, the Jedi wanted no trace of the Dark Side to exist, and allowed no tutelage or dabbling in the arts of Darkness. No balance between Light and Dark – the Light must have dominance at all times. They could not even manage balance between the Unifying Force and the Living Force. The current Council was packed with Masters attuned to the shifts and swirls of the future and past, but none willing to truly focus on the here and now. Only Jinn had seemed to understand the real importance of this aspect of the Force, and for his trouble had been considered a renegade and denied a seat on the Council. Fortunately for the Sith, he was no longer around to hinder them. The Jedi's indifference to the Living Force was about to cost them their brightest light. _How different it might have been had Jinn lived. At least Maul managed to do one thing right._

The Senate chamber hummed delightfully, not with the verbosity of the delegates, but with their fear. His master's clones had herded them all into their boxes, with an abundance of shoving, rough handling, and killing of assistants. And with none of the respect and fawning that these beings had become so accustomed to. Some had protested their treatment, but their indignation quickly gave way to fright after seeing a few of their colleagues shot down in cold blood. _Power extends from the barrel of a blaster_, Nemesis thought. _And the hilt of a lightsaber_.

In the center of the chaos, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and his Vice-Chairman Mas Amedda stood calmly on the Supreme Chancellor's platform. The Chancellor projected just the right mix of outrage and concern as Amedda pounded his gavel and demanded order.

Then a large delegate box dropped straight down from the ceiling of the chamber, and a gravelly voice boomed over the Senate's sound system. 

"SILENCE!"

The massive room fell quiet as every viewscreen showed the same thing: A large, heavily armed Mandalore warrior with four wide gold stripes on each arm, holding a tall pike. Every being in the room stared as the box slowly traversed the chamber, giving them all a good look at the hard-shell armor and bristling weaponry of the traditional Mandalore warrior. Nemesis chuckled as he watched on the booth's screens. Fett might lack subtlety, but he knew how terrifying his appearance and voice were, and he used both to his full advantage. 

"For a thousand years, the Mandalore people have watched and waited, seeking the opportunity to avenge the humiliation visited on us by this sham of a Republic." Fett's damaged voice rang through the chamber. "For centuries, you have grown fat, soft and lazy off the backs of others' labors. You have toasted yourselves on your success, sitting safely in the center of the galaxy while others have toiled on the outskirts."

"But no more! I deliver you this message from the overlords of the Mandalore: you are no longer safe. Even as I speak, our warriors take your colonies and your outlying worlds. We will return to our rightful place in the galaxy--"

Fett broke off as someone wrested control of the sound system. "What is the meaning of this?" Chancellor Palpatine's voice demanded. "You attack peaceful worlds! To what purpose?"

Nemesis grinned. Palpatine's interruption was perfectly timed. But what happened next was not a planned part of the agenda.

Blaster fire whined from a dozen different points in the chamber. Peering down from the control booth, Nemesis saw fights break out in several of the delegate boxes. He directed cam droids to those boxes. Senate Guards in combat fatigues poured into the chamber. Nemesis cursed; the Guard's rapid reaction force had arrived. It was inevitable, but the attack on their barracks should have slowed them down more.

Then he saw the glow of a lightsaber blade and one of the delegate boxes detached itself from the wall and rose towards Fett. The booth's viewscreen showed the dirty, bloodstained Queen of Naboo and…Skywalker. Nemesis almost smiled. This would be most enjoyable. 

Fett wheeled and brought his weapon to bear, not on the approaching box, but on…. _You idiot!_ Nemesis raged as the Mandalore fired at the Supreme Chancellor. But Palpatine was already down, tackled by a young man in a dirty tunic who had suddenly appeared on the platform. The man kept the Chancellor pinned down while a woman in a flame-colored dress returned Fett's fire.

All around the chamber, Senators bolted from their boxes as chaos erupted.

***************

Anakin bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet as Padmé guided the Naboo box towards the center of the chamber. Behind them, Captain Panaka yelled in protest as they left him standing on the dock. Panaka and Bail Organa had arrived with the Senate Guard's rapid reaction force just after Padme and her team has fought their way to the main door of the Senate. Even now, the Guards were spreading around the outside of the chamber, taking out the clone soldiers and guiding the Senators to safety.

Motion on the Supreme Chancellor's platform caught his eye, and he saw Jahn and Sabé emerge from the access door. Jahn tackled Palpatine, and a blaster bolt sizzled through the space just vacated by the Chancellor's head. Sabé fired back at the Mandalore warrior, forcing him to retreat.

The Mandalore fired at Anakin and Padmé. Anakin smoothly deflected the shots, making sure that the bolts bounced harmlessly off the walls and ceiling. This man had killed his mother, and Anakin wanted to make damned sure that he paid for it. He would not get a quick death by blaster. He would fall before the blade of Anakin's saber, burned as Shmi had been. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Anakin felt a tingle of doubt at the direction of his thoughts. _Calm yourself._ _Do not act on your anger_. He squashed the thought and tightened his grip on his lightsaber hilt. 

The Mandalore's box lifted towards the ceiling, retreating rapidly. Anakin saw the maintenance dock high up in the ceiling. Only one box could dock at a time…. He whirled on Padmé. "Hurry!" he yelled. "He's going to get away!"

"It won't go any faster!" Padmé yelled back.

Anakin switched off his saber and leaped up to the rim of the other box. As soon as his feet hit, something swept his legs and he toppled back over the side. He heard Padmé scream his name as he flailed for a handhold. 

His fingers closed over a small protrusion near the bottom side of the vehicle and he felt his shoulder jerk as he stopped his fall. Hanging on by the fingertips of one hand, he fumbled his saber back onto his belt and pawed desperately for a better grip. The heat from the repulsor engines seared his legs as he swung from his precarious hold.

A hard jolt nearly dislodged him, and he realized that the box had hit the maintenance dock. Enraged that the Mandalore might get away, Anakin used the Force to launch himself up and into the vehicle. He landed with his saber lit and swung wildly at the big soldier.

The Mandalore parried with the long handle of his pike. He twisted the handle, pulling the lightsaber to one side, and cracked Anakin across the cheekbone. Anakin staggered back and dodged a swipe of the pike's razor-sharp blade. Sparks flew as the blade bit into the repulsor control panel.

Anakin lunged, thrusting straight out with tip of his saber. The man twisted away and the blade just grazed him, scorching his armor. Anakin's momentum carried him past the man and before he could recover, the handle of the pike whacked him brutally across the back of the head. He hit the floor, stunned. Several vicious kicks to his ribcage followed, and Anakin gasped for air.

Then came a loud crash, and the vehicle shook violently. Anakin saw Padmé jump into the vehicle, blaster raised. But the Mandalore was too fast. He grabbed the barrel of the blaster and jerked it away as he backhanded Padmé across the face. The blow threw her back against the side of the box, and Anakin screamed her name as she tumbled over the rim.

The Mandalore escaped past him as he stumbled to the side of the car and looked over. Padmé hung by her fingertips from the bottom of the box, her legs dangling over the thousand meters of empty space between her and the floor of the chamber. Anakin stretched for her, but she was just out of his arm's reach.

"Anakin, I can't hang on!"

Anakin reached out and grabbed her with the Force just as her fingers slipped off. He pulled her up to the box and gathered her in. Her arms tightened convulsively around him, and he hissed at the pain in his ribs.

"Are you all right?" he asked, taking her face in his hands. His fingers shook as he skimmed them over the bruise forming on her cheekbone. She nodded as she caught her breath. "I'm going after him, Padmé. He murdered my mother. He hurt you. He's going to pay."

Padmé grabbed his trembling hands. "I'm coming with you."

Anakin kissed her lips lightly. Then they bolted out of the box into the maintenance bay, sidestepping lube pits and repair parts. Bodies littered the large room, victims of the big soldier's advance to the Senate Chamber. Anakin tried to shut out the cloying odor of death, and he felt Padmé's revulsion and anger at the gruesome sight. Innocent techs caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Part of his brain automatically took a tally as he dashed across the bay. Perhaps he would skewer the Mandalore once for every dead or injured person he encountered as he pursued.

Anakin threw open the door and leaped onto the access ladder, straddling it with his feet and sliding to the floor below. Padmé followed in the same manner, but he did not wait for her. Afraid that the Mandalore would escape, he raced down the long hallway that ran along the outside of the Senate chamber. On a landing platform several stories below him, he saw a squat, elliptical ship of a type he had never seen before. He stopped and stared at it. It looked like some kind of hideous alien beetle, and Anakin suddenly knew where the Mandalore was headed. 

He took off again, drawing on the Force to cover the length of the hall with inhuman speed. The stairwell door flew from its housing and Anakin shot through it. He vaulted over the stair railings and dropped five floors to the platform level. Knocking aside another door, he burst into the access corridor. The Mandalore was at the door to the landing platform. Anakin sprinted towards him, yelling at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off the metal walls and floor.

The big soldier spun around and fired his blaster. Anakin deflected the bolts easily, then reached through the Force and jerked the weapon away. He sliced it into several pieces as it flew by him. Then he turned and faced the man, holding his lightsaber in front of him.

The Mandalore warrior threw his head back and laughed. His damaged voice grated on Anakin's ears like rocks in an ore crusher. He pulled his pike from the holder on his back and twirled it as he advanced on the young man. 

"So, little Jedi," he said. "You want more."

Anakin sensed amusement and supreme confidence. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber. "No," he ground out. "I want justice."

He lunged at the Mandalore, swinging his saber in a powerful overhead arc. The blade sparked and sizzled against the handle of the pike as he once again stared into that dark, expressionless visor.

"Justice for what, Jedi?" the Mandalore demanded. "For being hunted and slaughtered like animals? For a thousand years we wasted hiding from the Jedi? For the centuries we've spent rebuilding so that we can once again take our rightful place in the galaxy?"

Then the visor drove forward. Anakin jerked back, but not fast enough to keep the man's helmet from hitting the bridge of his nose. It was a glancing blow, but Anakin saw stars and felt blood trickle over his upper lip.

He had no time to dwell on it. The soldier attacked, pushing him back with a series of quick, powerful strikes. High, low, left side, right side, the pike and the lightsaber coming together with the blood-curdling shriek of fingernails on a chalkboard. The Mandalore put all of his considerable bulk behind the attack and Anakin retreated before the force of the blows. His hands ached with the vibrations coming through the hilt of his saber. 

Anakin was by far the most capable Padawan in the Temple when it came to dueling. He had bested many Knights as well, and on occasion given Obi-Wan a run for his money. But he was young and inexperienced in mortal combat. Fett was in his prime, a ruthless, battle-hardened veteran who brought all the cruel cunning and brutal ethos of his warrior culture to bear against his young opponent. He had no fear for himself and no doubt that he would win. Anakin's only advantages were his almost inhuman speed and his connection with the Force.

He ground his teeth in frustration as he backpedaled. The Mandalore had complete control of the battle. Anakin wanted to go on the offensive, but needed all his strength just to defend himself. He could feel the Force flowing around him, could sense the Mandalore's confidence, but couldn't seem to anticipate the man's actions. His Jedi reflexes were the only thing keeping him from being gutted.

The Mandalore chopped at him, and Anakin parried, stopping the razor-like blade just centimeters from his head. He stared into the visor again, searching for the man's eyes.

"Where is your bodyguard, little Jedi? Splattered over the floor of the Senate?" the Mandalore asked. He shoved hard with his pike and sent Anakin stumbling back. 

"No."

They both jerked around to see Padmé standing in broken stairwell doorway, her pistol leveled at the Mandalore. "I'm right here."

Anakin relaxed as her bright presence glowed in his Force-sense. He settled his mind and drew from her courage and determination as he faced the man again.

"She's come to your rescue again, Jedi," the Mandalore said. "Will you ever learn to survive without a woman to protect you?"

"Probably not," Anakin said quietly. He motioned for Padmé to lower her weapon. She did so, but remained vigilant. "She protects me with her strength and love, not with her blaster."

The Mandalore snorted. Anakin circled him, watching for an opening. He felt confident in a way that had eluded him earlier. He didn't know if it was the comforting spark of Padmé's presence or the singular purpose of this battle, but he was focused. Intent on the task at hand and firmly rooted in the moment. 

The warrior must have sensed this somehow, for his mood shifted and he attacked almost recklessly. Anakin slapped aside a swing at his legs and somersaulted over the man's head, slashing as he landed. The man dodged, but not before Anakin scored a hit to his armored shoulder. 

The Mandalore roared in pain and swung his pike viciously. Anakin leaped back. The blade sliced through his outer tunic right below his belt. Anakin swallowed hard. _Good thing I'm not any taller or that might have been devastating._

But now the soldier was off-balance and Anakin took the offensive for the first time. His confidence grew as he forced the Mandalore back down the hall with a string of lightning-fast strikes. Most were parried, but he scored a few hits on the armor. Lightsaber and pike clashed, sparks flying from the metal walls of the corridor where they slammed against them. Anakin crowded in on his adversary, not letting him bring the blade of his pike to bear. It was risky, given the Mandalore's greater strength, but he had the man on the defensive and did not want to give him a chance to regroup.

Then the Mandalore parried a downstroke, pushed the lightsaber back hard, and unleashed a powerful kick that caught the young Jedi in the chest. Anakin stumbled back and lost his footing on the smooth floor, landing on his backside. But instead of attacking, the Mandalore used his reprieve to escape through the access door to the landing platform. Blaster bolts ricocheted off the closing door as Padmé fired on him.

Anakin swore as he jumped to his feet. If his mother's killer escaped after all this…. He bolted through the access door, Padmé hot on his heels. 

This particular landing platform doubled as a maintenance facility. The wide catwalk leading out to the platform thrummed with the vibrations of heavy machinery, and the sharp smell of oils and lubricants hung in the air. The metal rang from the pounding of their boots as they raced along the catwalk.

The Coruscant sunset backlit the squat form of the Mandalore spacecraft. Anakin saw the soldier vault the gate at the end of catwalk and run toward his ship. Enraged at the idea that he might get away, Anakin raised his hand and Force-pushed the man to the deck as he charged down the catwalk. He hurdled the gate and barreled into Fett, chopping with his lightsaber.

Still on his back, Fett blocked the blow and kicked out, tossing Anakin over his head. Anakin slid across the deck, stopping himself only a few meters from the edge. He rolled to one side as Fett hacked at him, the blade of the pike clanging against the metal floor. Then he cried out as Fett kicked him in the ribs again. He threw himself across the platform, trying to buy some time to recover. As he got to his feet, he felt an odd yet familiar sensation in his Force-sense, and whirled just in time to deflect a blaster shot fired from the Mandalore ship. 

Anakin stared. On the ramp of the ship stood a teen-aged boy with unruly dark hair, his blaster raised. The boy's incomplete Force-presence drew all of Anakin's attention, holding it with the same morbid fascination that draws the eyes to a missing limb. Disturbed by the boy's spiritual disfigurement, he barely blocked the next few shots. Padmé's scream yanked him out of his trance. He turned to meet the Mandalore warrior as Padmé returned the boy's fire, driving him back up the ramp.

The Mandalore's attack rocked him back on his heels. Anakin sensed that his renewed ferocity had something to do with the boy in the ship_. So he has someone he cares about. I'll have to show him what it's like to lose a loved one!_ He felt Padmé skirting the edges of the fight, keeping the boy at bay and looking for a chance to shoot his opponent. He kept his body between her and the Mandalore as he pushed the man back. No one, not even Padmé, would deprive him of this pleasure.

Anakin met the Mandalore blow for blow, driving him toward the edge of the platform. The man realized he was losing the fight, and Anakin sensed his desperation. "You murdered my mother, you scumbag,' he said as he hacked at the man again and again. "And after I finish with you, I'm going to send your boy to join you."

The Mandalore chopped at him wildly. Anakin sidestepped it smoothly and trapped the blade against the floor with his saber. Crowing in triumph, he spun and brought his boot down hard on the man's elbow. The joint snapped and the Mandalore screamed in pain as he fell to the deck. Anakin kicked the pike off the edge of the platform and raised his saber to deliver the killing blow.

"Anakin, no!"

Padmé ran across the deck to him. She put a hand on his arm to stay his saber. "Don't, Ani."

"He's a killer, Padmé!" Anakin cried. "He murdered my mother!"

"He's also the clone commander, Anakin. We need him to find out where they are coming from and who is making them." She pressed his arm down. "And he has to stand trial for his crimes. You cannot judge and execute him, no matter how justified you feel."

He started to shake her off and kill the man anyway. But her grip on his arm tightened and she shook her head. She reached over and deactivated his saber. Anakin backed away from Fett, still seething.

A blaster bolt sizzled past them. The teenager was back on the ramp, firing at them. Anakin snapped his saber back on and deflected the shots as Padmé dove to one side. She came up shooting, and the boy was thrown back onto the ship.

A howl of rage came from behind them. Fett leaped to his feet, drawing his good arm back. Then he snapped it forward, hurling a large knife directly at Padmé. Anakin lunged and sliced through the knife. The pieces clattered harmlessly to the deck.

Using the momentum from his lunge, Anakin spun around and swung his lightsaber in a flat, one-handed arc. The blade sliced through Fett's neck. The Mandalore's body remained standing for a few heartbeats before collapsing to the deck.

Padmé turned away at the sight of the helmeted head rolling across the floor. Anakin knew she was sickened and disappointed at the killing, but he could not help a sense of grim satisfaction.

Then the engines of the Mandalore's spacecraft started up with a roar. The ramp was closed and the boy was gone. He grabbed Padmé and dragged her behind the backblast shield. The engines fired and they ducked as the heat rolled over the shield. The ship lifted into the traffic lanes and disappeared into the stratosphere.

Anakin leaned back against the permacrete and pulled Padmé to him. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he said. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"For what, Ani?"

"For killing that soldier. I know you wanted him alive."

She shook her head. "I wish there could have been some other way. He was our best chance of finding out who is behind this." She tugged his braid and kissed him. "But you saved my life, Ani. I can hardly be upset about that." 

He held her. She rested her head on his chest for a moment, then got to her feet.

"Come on," she said. "The others may need our help."

They walked around the shield and stopped dead in their tracks. A dark-cloaked figure blocked their exit, a lightsaber hilt held easily in one hand. 

"Sith…" Anakin breathed. 

Padmé drew her blaster, but it was torn from her grip before she could fire. It flew into the Sith Lord's outstretched hand. He looked at it with amusement before tossing it over the edge of the platform. He removed his cloak and faced Anakin, his golden eyes bright with rage and anticipation.

He ignited his lightsaber and advanced on them. "So, boy, you are the Chosen One. I'm afraid I'm not impressed." He paused and looked down at the head of the Mandalore warrior. "I see you've already dealt with the illustrious Colonel Fett. That will cause me some inconvenience, but he was an imbecile."

He kicked the head away. "Now, let's see if you are as powerful as the prophecy says."

Anakin stripped away his cloak and brought his own saber up. He ordered Padmé away. When she didn't budge, he caught her arm and said, "Please, Padmé…"

She retreated reluctantly, her eyes never leaving the Sith Lord. Darth Nemesis shot her a feral grin. 

"That's right, Your Highness, back off," he said. "I'm sure you remember what happened the last time the Jedi met the Sith."

"Yes, I do," she snapped. "Obi-Wan Kenobi sent him to the bottom of a melting pit."

A flash of pure hatred crossed the Sith Lord's face. "Kenobi isn't here this time. I will settle with him after I deal with this pup."

Lightsabers glowing in the rapidly fading light, the two combatants circled each other.

***************

Sabé leaned around the Chancellor's podium and squeezed off a few shots before ducking back behind it. The Senate chamber was nothing but pandemonium. Delegate boxes buzzed about the cavernous room like clumsy insects, manned by clone soldiers and Senate Guards who collided and fired on each other with reckless abandon. Often, a body would fly over the edge of a box, plummeting to the floor far below. It looked like scene from an amusement park. If the situation wasn't so deadly, Sabé thought that she might find it amusing.

Jahn held position at the other end of the podium. He tried to keep Chancellor Palpatine pinned to the floor while defending their position, but the old man kept sitting up to see what was going on. Jahn had been none too gentle with the Chancellor; he had a bloody nose and lump on his forehead where Jahn had tackled him earlier. 

Still, it didn't seem to deter him. He peeked up over the top of the podium, only to have his white hair singed by a stray bolt before Jahn yanked him back down. _Men_, Sabé thought. _They obviously don't get any smarter as they get older._

One of the clone-manned delegate boxes kept swooping past them, its occupants leaning over the edge to strafe Chancellor's platform as they flew by. Sabé swore as the box made another pass, leaving behind a scorched line of carpet not half a meter from the podium. So far, no one had been hit, but she needed to get the Chancellor and his assistants off the platform and somewhere safe. Then she could go search for Padmé, who had once again recklessly taken off after Anakin.

Sabé leaned around the podium again to chase off another clone box. When she pulled back, someone collapsed beside her. She turned and saw Mas Amedda. The corpulent Vice Chairman panted and wiped the sweat from his brow. _That short little run from his hiding place to here might be the death of him_, Sabé thought. _I am NOT giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if he collapses_.

"Need…to…get…the Chancellor…to…safety," Amedda wheezed.

Sabé clamped down on her temper. "Yes, sir, I'm aware of that. But I would like to move him without getting him killed."

The persistent delegate box buzzed by again. Sabé made herself as small as possible and fired back blindly as the deadly bolts raked across the platform. Then she called out to make sure everyone was all right. Jahn gave her a thumbs-up as he pressed the Chancellor's head into the floor. Palpatine looked extremely put out. The Chancellor might survive this, but Sabé didn't know if Jahn's Army career would. 

Amedda looked shocked. "Sir," Sabé said, shaking his shoulder. "Sir, are you all right?"

Amedda blinked and stared, as if seeing everything for the first time. "Yes, yes," he answered finally. "I apologize. I've never been shot at before."

"Happens to me all the time," Sabé muttered. "Is there someplace we can take the Chancellor?"

Amedda bobbed his massive head. "The Emergency Operations Center, down below the Senate. It's a reinforced bunker, with communications equipment and everything else the Chancellor will need to monitor what is happening."

"Okay." Sabé looked around for the circling clone box, then scooted over to Jahn and relayed Amedda's information.

"How will we get them down there, Sabé?" he asked. "The lifts aren't working."

"Damn, I forgot about that!" Sabé said. She pushed her hair back from her face as she thought. "We'll figure out a way after we get off this platform. We're too exposed."

"We could take the turbolift shafts again," Jahn said. He nodded at Mas Amedda. "But I don't really like our chances of fitting _him_ into one of them."

Chancellor Palpatine chuckled. They turned to look at him. "I'm sure that the Vice-Chairman would be most uncomfortable in a turbolift shaft. However, there is a special lift outside my office that goes directly to the Ops Center. It is not connected to the main turbolift bank, so it should be functional."

Sabé nodded. "All right. Let's do it. You go first and take the Chancellor."

Jahn grinned and threw her a mock salute. Sabé rolled her eyes and crawled back over to Amedda. After she explained the plan to him, she looked around, then signaled Jahn to go. 

Jahn hauled Palpatine to his feet and pushed him along the platform, keeping his body between the Chancellor and the circling vehicles. He paused at the seats just long enough to yank Sei Taria from her hiding place and herd her through the door as well. The clone box made another run at them, and Jahn dove through the door as blaster bolts pinged off it. 

As the box swept past, Sabé yelled at Mas Amedda to go. The Vice-Chairman lumbered over to the door as Sabe scooted along behind him, her blaster rifle raised against possible threats. They ducked through the door and went down the stairs as fast as Amedda's bulk would allow them.

***************

Obi-Wan raced through the Senate halls, cutting down the occasional clone soldier and casting about for Anakin's presence. The young man was not responding to his comlink. Obi-Wan could sense his Padawan – not a difficult thing considering how Anakin glowed in the Force like a sun – but could not pinpoint his location in the general chaos and the fog of confusion radiating from the Temple.

But he could sense Anakin's rapidly changing emotions. Fear, love, satisfaction, relief…but underlying it all, that pervasive anger that seemed to simmer in him constantly these days. 

He came up behind a knot of clone soldiers who had someone pinned down farther along the corridor. He launched into them, the green blade of his saber flashing. Bolts were deflected, weapons knocked aside, and the clones reduced to smoking bodies. 

Obi-Wan deflected a few more stray bolts and called out for whoever was down the hall. He saw Sabé detach herself from the wall and run toward him, with Chancellor Palpatine, Mas Amedda, and Sei Taria in tow. Jahn Elluis brought up the rear, watching their backs.

"Nice to see you, Obi-Wan," Sabé said.

Obi-Wan smiled. "I never thought I would hear you say that to me, Sabé," he said. "You look like you've had a trying day."

Sabé scowled. She looked like she had taken a jaunt through the lower levels of Coruscant. Her dress was stained with dirt and grease, and torn in several places. Large smudge marks adorned her face.

"Your wit astounds me as always, Obi-Wan," she said. "You try spending the better part of the day in the ventilation system with him" – she jerked her thumb at Jahn – "and see how you look."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. Jahn just grinned and shrugged. He looked as bad as Sabé, with his filthy hair and face. Obi-Wan thought that his tunic might once have been white.

He took in the shell-shocked expressions of the three politicians. "What is the situation, Sabé?"

"The Senate Guards rapid reaction force arrived some time ago." The handmaiden was all business. "The main chamber is the definition of anarchy, but I believe the Guards will re-take it. Destruction of the Senate doesn't appear to be the Mandalore objective. I think terrorism is the purpose."

She gestured to the Chancellor and his aides. "We need to get them to the Emergency Operations Center down below. Can you help us? I'm not sure if Jahn and I can protect them by ourselves."

"Where is the Queen?"

He sensed Sabé's irritation. "She took off after your apprentice," she said acidly. "Again. They were chasing the Mandalore leader."

Obi-Wan froze. 

_I fought a big Mandalore who appeared to be the leader. He had four gold stripes on his arms. I'm sure that he was not a clone – his Force presence was normal. He was armed with a different weapon. A long staff with a very sharp hooked blade on the end of it, and he was very skilled with it. My lightsaber would not cut through the staff._

Was his Padawan chasing his mother's killer?

"Obi-Wan, will you help us?"

He shook his head and looked at Sabé. The Force pulled him in two directions. Anakin would likely need his help, but his Padawan was just one piece in the larger puzzle. On the other hand, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic stood before him, on the run, his life in danger if he did not reach safety. And in this chaos, the loss of his leadership could be devastating.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, grounded all his life in the need to focus on the bigger picture, went with his natural inclinations. 

"Yes," he said to Sabé.

But as he helped usher the Chancellor through the hallways, Obi-Wan couldn't escape the niggling feeling that he had just made a mistake.

The group reached the special turbolift outside the Chancellor's office with little incident. Palpatine placed his hand over the access panel. A light skimmed across it and the lift doors opened.

Except for the whispered conversations between Palpatine and Amedda, they were silent as they descended into the bowels of the Senate building. Obi-Wan knew of the existence of the Emergency Operations Center, or EOC as it was known at the upper echelons, but didn't know its precise location. At the rate the lift was dropping, he guessed it must be well into the lower city.

The lift finally stopped and they stepped out into a bustling command center. The room rose five levels from the floor, with balcony-like walkways ringing each level. An astounding array of the latest command, control, and communication systems lined the walls at each level. The centerpiece of the room was a huge electronic situation board, which displayed real-time information on the position and status of all Republic forces within the Coruscant system, as well as any confirmed information about enemy forces.

Obi-Wan was surprised at the sophisticated layout. The Republic had not faced a significant military threat in almost a thousand years. Yet everything in this room appeared to be state-of-the-art, and crisp, efficient-looking officers of all ranks and services bustled about. Something about this place and its occupants bothered Obi-Wan, but he could not pinpoint the source of his anxiety.

"Atten-HUT!" A deep voice resounded through the room. Someone had noticed the Chancellor's presence. Everyone snapped to attention.

"As you were," Palpatine ordered. He was obviously comfortable here.

A tall man wearing the stripes of an admiral hurried to the Chancellor's side. Palpatine and his aides followed the man, who began briefing them on the situation. The admiral's aide, a pretentious-looking young lieutenant, held up his hand when Obi-Wan, Sabé and Jahn attempted to follow. 

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Having been dismissed, the three of them wandered around the periphery of the room, looking at the equipment with awe.

Jahn let out a low whistle. "This is some setup. I've never seen sitmaps this elaborate, even in the Scouts."

"That's what puzzles me," Obi-Wan said. "The Republic hasn't had a major conflict in almost a millenium. Most armed forces tend to get lax about measures such as these during peaceful times. Yet this place seems to be on a war footing already, despite the lack of readiness displayed above."

"Look at this," Sabé said. "The center one has the Coruscant situation, but these…." She gestured at the smaller boards arrayed about the lowest level of the room. "There's a board for every major Core and Inner Rim system."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said.

"I don't know why, Obi-Wan," Jahn said. "This looks like an ideal setup to me."

__

Ideal for what? Obi-Wan studied the Coruscant situation board. The green triangles identified Republic starcraft, while the yellow triangles were unknown or enemy craft. The yellow triangles far outnumbered the green. Obi-Wan wondered how hard the main Navy port had been hit.

Chancellor Palpatine and the admiral walked up to the board. "…and we are out of contact with all the system's Orbital Control Units , sir. We can only assume that they were crippled or destroyed when this force entered the system."

Palpatine's voice was cold as he answered. "Admiral, the Republic has spent a great deal of money upgrading this area with an eye to preventing exactly this situation." His normally mild voice rose in anger. "And now you are telling me, that despite the credits and technology poured into this facility, these attackers still caught us with our proverbial pants down?!"

The admiral's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound issued forth. He looked panicked and Obi-Wan almost felt sorry for him. Having to admit failure to the Republic's highest official would not do much to advance the admiral's career.

"But, sir…" the admiral began.

Palpatine cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Spare me your excuses, Admiral, and get your people busy on getting reinforcements here to repel this attack."

He turned his back on the admiral and addressed Colonel Tarkin, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. "What is the situation here?"

"The main base here was decimated, Chancellor. Reports flowing out are still very confused, but from what we can ascertain, we lost more than eighty percent of our fighters. There were ten squadrons out on routine patrol." Tarkin highlighted different areas of the display to indicate the patrol sectors. "They have sustained combat losses. Again, we are unsure of the extent. Individual fighters are lifting off as the crews bring them online, and the maintenance personnel are putting others together by cannibalizing damaged craft."

"How long before reinforcements arrive?" Palpatine asked.

"Several hours at the earliest, sir," said Tarkin. "We just managed to establish communications with the Corellia base about an hour ago."

Palpatine whirled on the hapless admiral. "This is completely unacceptable, Admiral! The capital has been under attack for the better part of the day, and we still have no idea if and when we will be reinforced?! They may well be permanently entrenched here by then!"

"Pardon me, Chancellor," said Obi-Wan. "But I don't believe that conquest is the Mandalore's objective here. From what Handmaiden Martiarrie has observed, the size of the clone force and the nature of the attack indicate that terror, not occupation, is the purpose here."

Tarkin scoffed. "Jedi Kenobi, do you really expect the Chancellor to make command decisions based on the observations of a queen's lady-in-waiting? We're talking about a war here, not preparations for a formal dress ball!"

Sabé's eyes narrowed. Obi-Wan shook his head and frowned, warning her to keep still. 

"We should not discount Miss Martiarrie's opinion, for reasons that I will not go into right now," Obi-Wan said. "And I believe the situation is more complicated then it appears. But for the time being, the Senate Guards appear to have the upper hand, at least within the Government Center complex."

"That may be, for now," said Tarkin. "But the rest of our ground forces will not fare too well without fighter support. And I am afraid that they have air superiority right now. And we have very few ground-based anti-aircraft assets."

"Excuse me?" Jahn broke into the debate. "Could someone explain this pattern to me?"

Tarkin started to say something, but the Chancellor held up his hand. "What is it, son?"

Jahn indicated the Coruscant situation board. "The white triangles denote civilian air traffic, correct?" A nod from Tarkin. "It's still pretty heavy, despite what is going on up there, maybe because the word hasn't gotten out not to launch. I doubt there's much civil craft control right now."

"But here and here and here…." Jahn pointed at the display. "There are large areas of clear space in the traffic all over Coruscant where no one is flying. Why?"

Obi-Wan stared at the display, the memory of Anakin, a long-ago race and a disaster barely averted rising in his mind. He turned to Chancellor Palpatine and smiled.

"Chancellor, I think we may have a way to start shooting down some of these enemy fighters."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Anakin Skywalker and Darth Nemesis closed with each other in a clash of blue and red blades. They wheeled across the landing platform, lunging and swinging at each other with terrifying speed. Back and forth they whipped, lightsabers crashing together with the screech of saw blades on steel.

Padmé stood by the backblast shield, frustrated by her inability to help Anakin. She had no weapon other than her small vibroknife. A single wild thought of attacking the Sith Lord flashed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Not only was it tantamount to suicide, such a move would likely distract Anakin and get him killed as well. 

So she watched as the two combatants fought their way across the deck, their lightsabers flashing in the fading light. They struck and parried, attacked and counterattacked, locked in a furious, no-mercy-shown battle. Padmé's anxiety increased as she recognized the threat the Sith Lord posed. He was as tall as Anakin, but with broader shoulders and a heavier build. And he was fast, moving around the young Jedi with easy grace. 

Anakin sensed the danger as well, and pressed his attack hard. He thrust and parried with incredible quickness, trying to keep his enemy off-balance with his speed and agility. But Darth Nemesis was skilled - probably more skilled than he, Anakin admitted someplace in the back of his mind. And the Sith Lord had the advantage of age and experience, plus the inherent strength of his larger build. Anakin's edge in this fight, as in most, was his slight speed advantage and innate Force affinity.

But Anakin's initial burst failed to break through the Sith Lord's defense. The other man was fast enough to block Anakin's attack, and used his greater strength to drive the Jedi toward the edge of the platform. Anakin backpedaled, trying to clear enough space between them to defend himself and regroup. But Nemesis bore into him, fighting him close-quarters to negate Anakin's quickness and force him to expend his strength warding off the powerful strikes.

Anakin slipped on the smooth floor. Nemesis hammered at him, forcing him to his knees. Anakin parried the blows, stopping some of them only centimeters from his head. He could smell his singed hair. His mind raced as he sought an escape from the deadly attack. Then Nemesis shifted his feet and Anakin had a flash of inspiration.

He knocked away a strike at his shoulder, then shut off his saber and threw himself between the Sith Lord's legs. He rolled to his feet behind Nemesis and leaped up to an overhanging catwalk. He paced back and forth, calming his breathing and centering himself.

"Very clever, Chosen One," Nemesis said. "Is that a standard maneuver taught in the legendary Jedi Temple? Or should I say, in the half-standing Jedi Temple?"

"No," Anakin replied, ignoring the goad. "I learned that from another skilled fighter. But we are taught to take advantage of opportunities as they arise."

"Not so different from the Sith, then." Nemesis leaped up to the catwalk. 

The red-bladed lightsaber flashed, and Anakin barely brought his own weapon up in time. The blades scraped and grated together, and Anakin felt the heat of the combined energy beams on his face as Nemesis pushed him back relentlessly. The Sith Lord's golden eyes shone with the heat of the battle and his dark glee as he battered at Anakin's defenses. He pounded hard, the red blade slipping over the blue one and scorching the young Jedi's tunic from neck to belt. Anakin countered with a thrust toward the other's head and back-flipped away.

But Nemesis was on him again, hammering at him savagely, driving him down the catwalk towards the maintenance bay. Anakin retreated. He could feel his body tiring. The day's events and the battle with Fett had taken their toll on his stamina. Sweat bathed his face and stung his eyes, and his arms were taut with fatigue. A small spark of fear built within him, pushing aside the quiet determination he had begun this battle with. Fear not for his own life, but for those he loved. What would happen to them if he failed here? He desperately wished for Obi-Wan's presence. Why wasn't he here, helping his Padawan? 

They fought their way into the service passage leading to the maintenance bay. Darkness engulfed them as the automatic doors swung shut. The hiss of steam and the hum of machinery surrounded them, looming like an unseen dragon. The only illumination came from their sabers, the blades throwing a sickly red-blue glow across their faces as they clashed together.

Anakin sensed rather than saw the passage open up into the maintenance bay. Emergency bulbs bathed the large room with dim light, casting the bulky tool bins and piles of repair parts in eerie shadows. They were alone in the bay, all the maintenance and docking workers having fled when the attack began. The fight intensified as the two men whirled and spun, dodging around the obstacles that littered the floor. Darth Nemesis began to use the Force to fling heavy objects at Anakin, trying to distract him, knock him off balance and break open his defense. Anakin responded in kind, and the air was filled with flying tools, power converters, engine parts, and even a few astromech droids. The combatants spun and twisted, swinging their lightsabers to ward off the missiles while stepping up their attacks on each other.

Then Anakin caught Nemesis's saber in a parry and spun the man to the side, exposing the Sith Lord's back to a careening hatch door. The part struck Nemesis between the shoulders and knocked him to the floor. His lightsaber slid across away from him. Anakin let out a yell of triumph and chopped viciously at his adversary, intending to strike a killing blow.

He missed completely.

Nemesis had anticipated the move and rolled away. He jumped to his feet and called his lightsaber to his hand. Anakin charged, not wanting to give his opponent time to recover. He pressed Nemesis back, carrying the attack to him, hammering at him with fresh resolve. The Sith Lord's golden eyes showed the first uncertainty of this battle as Anakin pushed him across the bay and back out onto the catwalk.

Sparks flew from the metal railings of the catwalk as the lightsabers struck them, and the structure rang with the thudding of their boots as they wheeled and jumped along it. The sun had set completely, and the only light came from the half-moon and the glow of the city's towers. Anakin heard Padmé's voice over the harsh sound of his own breathing, and he glanced down at the deck of the platform. She stood by the backblast shield, shouting into her comlink, illuminated by the landing lights that had come on when darkness fell.

But the moment's distraction cost him. Nemesis twisted his wrists, twirling their locked blades around and wrenching Anakin's saber from his hands. It flew over the rail and landed on the deck below. Anakin ducked the roundhouse swing that followed. The Sith's blade struck a pipe housing and steam billowed over both combatants. Anakin stumbled back, trying to escape. He bumped against the catwalk rail. Then a heavy flying object struck him on the shoulder and spun him around. He had barely registered Nemesis's emergence from the fog when the Sith Lord backhanded him across the face. Anakin toppled over the railing.

He could see the feral grin and gleaming golden eyes as he fell. He twisted in the air, trying to land on his feet. He heard Padmé's scream, then his head struck the backblast shield and everything went black. 

***************

Obi-Wan and Sabé hung on for dear life, their knuckles white against the grips as Jahn maneuvered their "borrowed" speeder in and out between the tall buildings. So far they had not been spotted by any the clone fighters that circled overhead, and Jahn wanted to keep it that way. So he hugged close to the sides of the buildings, hoping to stay lost in the civilian traffic, which was still surprisingly heavy.

Sabé swore as Jahn stood the speeder on its side and whipped around a corner. Then he dropped it several hundred feet to weave between the lanes of traffic. "For 'Vala's sake, Elluis, you're going to get us killed before we get to where we're supposed to be killed! This is a speeder, not a starfighter!" She wiped her face. "Can we go back and get my stomach?"

"And I thought Anakin was a crazy pilot," Obi-Wan murmured. "Be careful, Jahn, or we'll lose the droid."

Jahn glanced over his shoulder, then jerked the vehicle hard to the right to avoid an oncoming airtruck. "I strapped him in pretty good," he said. "He'll be all right."

Artoo-Detoo let out a series of indignant bleeps from the speeder's cargo area. "Don't think I want that translated," Jahn said.

"Just watch where you're going!" Sabé snapped. She looked around at the lights of the surrounding traffic and mumbled what might have been a prayer.

After Obi-Wan's declaration that they would need a droid at their destination, Sabé had managed to coax Ric Olie back to Government Center to drop off Artoo ("What exactly did you promise him, Sabé?" Jahn had cracked, earning him a poisonous stare and a promise of retribution). Now they were on their way, along with other teams hastily scrambled together, to put a most unlikely anti-aircraft weapon into operation. 

That is, if they got there in one piece.

The speeder swooped into the lower city, below the main flow of traffic. The buildings here were not nearly so bright, and the tall towers of the upper city blocked the light of the half-moon. The speeder's beams cut through the darkness, illuminating a large dome on the outskirts of the Senate District. Hundreds of holes peppered the dome's roof. The holes were evenly spaced and ten meters in diameter. Every five seconds, a volley of metal canisters burst from the holes and headed into orbit.

Obi-Wan directed Jahn to the docking area at the side of the dome. They jumped out and carried Artoo up the stairs to the observation walkway. Sabé and Jahn followed Obi-Wan along the walkway toward a bank of turbolifts. The air thrummed with the vibrations of launching canisters, and the banister shook with muffled sonic booms as the garbage shot toward space.

"What in the world made you think of the garbage pits as potential defense points, Obi-Wan?" Sabé asked as they waited for Artoo to override the codes and bring them a lift.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I was almost shot down here once myself, chasing Anakin on one of his many boyhood transgressions. I found my first gray hairs after we returned to Temple from here."

"Why was he here?" Jahn asked.

"Racing."

"Ah." Jahn and Sabé both nodded in understanding.

They took the lift to a level between the middle and bottom shield and emerged into long curved hallway running around the edge of the pit. The corridor was crowded with old rusty machinery, some of it centuries old, judging by its appearance. Dim service lights illuminated the pit and the Coruscant city lights filtered through the measured holes. They skirted around the junk as Obi-Wan led them toward the control room.

Obi-Wan recalled his last visit here as though it were yesterday. The stench of sulphur and ozone from the canister guns filled the air. Missing were the odors of unwashed bodies, both human and alien, and the stink of the Greeter who ran the illegal pit races. The pit was empty of any life other than the scavengers native to these environments. Perhaps the city authorities had finally cracked down on this blood sport.

They slowed several times to lift a protesting Artoo around heaps of debris before finally reaching the control room. It was unmanned, everything run by computers and the ubiquitous maintenance droids that flitted from one level of the pit to the other.

Artoo plugged into the interface port and opened the door. In contrast to everything else in the pit area, the control room was clean and well maintained. Obi-Wan, Sabé, and Jahn sat down at separate terminals and used the codes they had been given to connect to the EOC and get a simple version of the Coruscant situation board displayed on their screens.

"Are you sure these canisters will be able to do the job, Obi-Wan?" Jahn asked. "I mean, it's just garbage. They're not packing any explosives."

"They will not destroy an enemy vessel without a direct hit to an engine or fuel cell," Obi-Wan answered. "But the velocity needed to get them into orbit ensure that if one of them hits a ship, it will either knock it out of the sky or damage it enough to force a landing."

They finished their preparations and switched their comlinks to the Navy fighter frequencies. There was no command and control ship for the starfighters – it had been wiped out in the initial assault. They would have to talk directly to the squadrons and make them understand what was happening. Artoo tied Obi-Wan's comlink into the control room's communication system. The chatter of pilots filled the room, with warnings shouted and expletives let loose as the remaining fighters struggled for survival. 

Sabé and Jahn began briefing the pilots as Obi-Wan and Artoo started working to turn the garbage pit's canister guns into crude but effective anti-aircraft weapons.

***************

Darth Nemesis leaned over the catwalk railing and smiled at the unconscious Jedi lying on the deck below him. The boy had given him a good battle, but in the end, the Dark Side had proved more powerful. The Chosen One's feelings for the woman had distracted him, and it had cost him dearly.

Nemesis descended the steps to the platform, savoring his victory. He now had no rival to his place at his master's side, and it would not be long before he challenged the old man for supremacy. At several points in the battle, he had thought that Skywalker might overcome him. The raw power flowing through the boy astounded him. No wonder Sidious wanted him. If the young man turned that potential to the Dark Side….

He turned the corner of the backblast shield and found the Queen of Naboo bending over the fallen Jedi, her back to him. Good. He could take care of both these nuisances at once. He ignited his lightsaber and strode toward them. The Queen suddenly stood up and whirled on him.

"You stay away from him," she commanded. Her voice was steady and she stared at him with implacable brown eyes.

"Who's going to stop me, Your Highness?"

The Jedi's blue lightsaber lit up with a _snap-hiss_. Padme held it up in front of her. "I am."

Nemesis roared with laughter. "Excellent!" He gave her a sweeping bow. "I welcome your…challenge."

Then he ducked, narrowly avoiding a hit that would have scalped him. He brought his blade up as Padmé went on the offensive, striking at him with surprising strength for one so small. Nemesis backed up, caught off guard by the aggressive attack. The Queen had obviously had some training - had Skywalker actually been foolish enough to teach a Force-blind woman to use the dangerous weapon? His curiosity peaked, Nemesis continued to backpedal as Padmé pushed him away from Anakin.

Padmé wasn't fooled by her apparent success. The Sith Lord might be retreating, but he still had control of the fight. He was probably more amused than concerned, but she didn't care. All that mattered was getting him away from Anakin. If she could keep the Sith busy, she could buy some time for her Jedi to recover. She had no doubt that the fight would end quickly when the man tired of this game. In the meantime, though, she might manage to get in a few stings.

Nemesis watched her with an arrogant smile as he backed around the shield. His gold eyes glinted with amusement and a hint of something else, something darker, as they swept over her. He wielded his saber with one hand, easily blunting her attack while pressing just hard enough to keep her off-balance and wear her out. Her arms ached with the effort to block his swings, and her breath came in shallow puffs.

"Come now, Your Highness," he taunted. "Surely you can do better than this. I would think that consorting with a Jedi would give you considerable skills with a saber."

Padmé flushed at the emphasis he put on the last word. Nemesis was now openly leering at her, his eyes wandering over her in a way that made her feel naked. Suddenly angry, she spun into a crouch and swung at his legs. As his blade dropped low to parry, she changed directions and swept her weapon up across his chest. He jerked back in surprise and only his superhuman reflexes kept her from gutting him. Instead, the blue blade cut a swath across his tunic from hip to shoulder, leaving behind the odor of scorched fabric.

Nemesis plucked at his ruined tunic and glared at her. Then his smirk returned. "Well, well, Your Highness. I seem to have struck a nerve." 

He lashed out with his saber, driving her across the smooth deck. His strikes came harder and faster. Padmé parried desperately. She felt the heat of his blade as she batted it away from her head. She was tiring quickly. Sweat poured down her face, and damp strands of hair fell across her eyes, but she didn't dare push them back. She needed every bit of her concentration to defend herself. 

And she knew that the Sith Lord hadn't brought even a fraction of his power to bear against her yet.

Her legs rubbery with fatigue, Padmé stumbled as she blocked a thrust aimed at her middle. Nemesis followed with an overhead blow that knocked her to the deck. She tried to roll away as he swung again, but she wasn't fast enough. The tip of his lightsaber swept down her side, leaving an angry burn in its wake.

Padmé bit back a scream at the searing pain. One hand flew to her side while the other held up the lightsaber to ward off another attack. But Nemesis just stood and watched her, a satisfied smile on his face. Padmé scuttled away from him and rose to her feet, holding her side. He advanced on her slowly and she backed away, trying to draw him further from Anakin.

"Noble intentions, Your Highness, but I can assure you that I will deal with Skywalker in due time." Nemesis jabbed at her with his lightsaber and grinned when she recoiled. "Yes, it _is_ painful, isn't it? Lightsabers leave such nasty burns, but at least there's no blood."

He lunged at her again. Padmé barely got her weapon up in time to block him. She spun and tried to step away, but his saber caught her thigh. This time she did scream, as the smell of her own charred flesh reached her nose. She collapsed to the deck, tears streaming down her face as she clutched at her leg. A narrow, blackened burn marred the outside of her thigh from hip to knee.

Padmé tried to slide away as Nemesis suddenly loomed over her. She raised her saber, only to have it batted aside. The Sith Lord's smug smile was gone, replaced by an expression far more frightening. He struck at her, tracing a burn down her other leg. Padmé screamed again, her breath coming in convulsive sobs at the terrible pain.

"This is pointless, Your Highness! You cannot even defend yourself, much less harbor any hope of defeating me." He brought his saber up under Padmé's chin. She tilted her head back, flinching away from the hot blade, and closed her eyes as she awaited the death strike. 

Then she heard the _whoosh_ of the saber deactivating and the heat was gone. She opened her eyes to see Nemesis looking at her with an appraising stare.

'The Sith will rise again, Your Highness. You cannot stop us." He gestured across the deck, where Anakin lay unconscious. "_They_ cannot stop us. The Republic is decadent and crumbling from within, full of greedy, corrupt officials who care about nothing more than obtaining power and lining their own pockets." 

Padmé managed a defiant stare. "And the Sith care nothing for power?" she asked sardonically, her voice cracking.

Nemesis smiled. "The Sith care for nothing but power, Your Highness. But we are straightforward about it. No hiding behind the noble words of diplomacy and pretending we care about the rights of all beings."

He extended his hand to her. "Join us, Queen Amidala. You have proven yourself an able ruler. Let us give you the power to govern many systems, not just one backwater planet on the edge of the Rim."

Padmé slid backward across the floor. Nemesis followed her, his voice taking on a hypnotic lilt as he spoke. 

"Join us," he entreated her. "Join _me_. I can give you the galaxy - power and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams."

Padmé continued to back away. His influence seemed to her like a thing alive, as it wrapped itself around her mind. His voice was spellbinding, pulling at her will, groping at her thoughts. She felt oddly detached, as though this were happening to someone else. She closed eyes, trying to shut him out.

"Come with me," she heard him say. A hand touched her leg, and some of her pain subsided. Padmé bit her lip. She wanted to go with him, give in to that mesmerizing voice, let him stop the burning in her legs and side. She looked up into his golden eyes. They were intense and compelling, drawing her in as his deep voice washed over her. 

She slowly reached for his outstretched hand.

Then something caught the Sith's attention and his eyes turned away from her. Padmé followed his gaze across the platform and saw Anakin stirring. Her head seemed to clear immediately, and her rage flared as she realized what Nemesis was attempting to do. And she had almost let him….

She tore her mind free of his influence. How could she have let him captivate her like that, to take her focus away from protecting Anakin?

Her fingers closed around the hilt of Anakin's lightsaber. The one with her crystal in it – part of them both. She thumbed the switch and swung viciously.

Nemesis jumped back, but not before the blue blade grazed him across the midsection. He bellowed in pain and whirled on Padmé, his yellow eyes ablaze with fury. She stumbled to her feet, trying to ignore the agony of her burned muscles as she moved away from him.

The Sith Lord stalked her, his weapon swaying back and forth in front of her like a deadly pendulum. He did not strike at her, just watched her with a bemused expression. 

"So," he said, "the little rose shows its thorns."

His saber slashed and Padmé gasped as the tip slid across her belly. Her vision blurred as she looked down at her newest wound, fighting her nausea at the sight of her scorched flesh. She knew now that he would draw this out, kill her slowly and enjoy her pain. She could surrender or fight, but either way, the outcome would be the same.

She took a weak swing at him. He batted it aside easily and swept his blade diagonally across her torso. Padmé screamed as it burned her from shoulder to hip. Her suit flapped open, exposing her body. Sobbing, Padmé dropped the lightsaber and folded her arms over her chest.

Nemesis chuckled as he held out his hand. Anakin's lightsaber leaped into it, and he attached it to his belt. He waved the tip of his red saber in Padmé's face.

"You are very beautiful, Your Highness. It will be a shame to mar such perfection."

Padmé somehow summoned enough strength to spit in his face. Nemesis stood shocked for a moment. Then he lashed out, backhanding her hard across the cheekbone and sending her crashing to the deck.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!"

Anakin's lightsaber was jerked from the Sith's belt. It sailed across the deck to land in Anakin's hand. The look of absolute rage on her Jedi's face was the last thing Padmé saw before she lost consciousness.

****************

Lieutenant Fal Redron banked his Headhunter between two spires, swearing at the civilian air traffic that limited his maneuver space. Didn't these people understand that they were under attack? Why were they still out here flying around?

"Ghostrider-Six, this is Ghostrider-Two." His wingman's voice crackled in his ear. "You sure about these orders?"

"I'm not sure about anything, Two," Redron snapped. "Just cut the chatter and keep it tight."

Out on routine orbit patrol when the attack started, Redron and the rest of the Ghostriders had plunged headlong into the fight. After the initial shock and confusion had worn off, they had gone after the enemy fighters methodically, tracking them down in pairs, a task made easier by the strange tendency of the enemy pilots to use the same tactics.

But there were just too many of them. The Ghostriders were down to half their original strength, and Redron had taken them down toward the planet, only to find their base in flames and half the Jedi Temple reduced to rubble. They stalked the enemy fighters through the city, using their knowledge of its spires and canyons to their advantage.

And now they had these odd orders. Lure the enemy fighters over the garbage pits. The orders came not from their wing control station or the main base, but directly from a woman who claimed to be working on behalf of the Supreme Chancellor. Redron had his doubts, but her code authentication was genuine. He thought the plan was crazy, but hell, the whole situation was crazy, and at least now they were acting in coordination with the other surviving squadrons.

Redron checked to see that his wingman was in position, then looked around for the others fighters in his squadron. "All right, Ghostriders. Let's go!"

They lifted up above the towers and soared back toward Government Center. The Headhunters plowed into the swarm of clone fighters, guns blazing, dipping, dodging and sideslipping around the strange triangular craft. 

"Careful, people!" Redron called as one of his pilots dove away from an enemy and barely pulled himself out of a stall. "Atmospheric flight!"

"You've got one on your tail, Six!"

Redron twisted in his seat, but couldn't locate his pursuer. "I can't see him! Two, where the hell are you?"

"He's coming in high, Six. I'm on him," Ghostrider Two said. There was a pause, then he called, "Break left!" 

Redron banked hard to the left and dove. Debris from the destroyed enemy ship sailed past him. "Thanks, Two." He pulled up and climbed until he was well above rooftop level.

"Okay, Ghostriders, I think we have enough. Let's go dump the garbage."

He peeled away from Government Center and hit the boost, followed by the rest of his squadron. At least a dozen clone fighters pursued. Using the engine boost for atmospheric flight was strictly forbidden, but Redron figured that no one would really care about a few more broken windows in the midst of all the destruction. Besides, anyone who might be in a position to say anything to him was likely already dead.

He was uneasy about the next phase of this operation. No one ever flew over the garbage pits, not even the biggest hot shots. The canister guns fired every five seconds, but the multiple guns were not synchronized with each other. And it was impossible to predict which of the hundreds of holes in the pit dome would have a canister in it at any given moment.

Redron thumbed his comm over to the control frequency the pit was using. "Pit Three-Two-Seven, this is Ghostrider Six."

"We have you, Ghostrider Six," a woman's voice came back.

"We are inbound from the west, approximately one dozen, I repeat, one dozen bandits following. ETA ninety seconds."

"Copy, Ghostrider. Come at vector…three two-hundred, altitude three thousand above the surface. Hit your boost as you cross the western edge of the pit. Do not slow down or deviate from your course."

"Roger that." Redron switched back to his squadron freq. "Heads up, Ghostriders. Come to course three two-hundred. Boost on my mark."

The eight remaining Headhunters of Ghostrider Squadron bore down on Pit Three Twenty-Seven, diving into the valley of buildings to start their run over the pit. They squeezed their formation tighter to fit between the buildings. They flashed by businesses and government offices. Civilian traffic had cleared out of this area, and they had an open flight path. The clone fighters screamed in behind them, firing their lasers. Redron cursed at the restraints on his maneuverability.

"We've lost Ghostrider Three," his wingman told him.

"Tighten up, Ghostriders," Redron ordered. "Here we go. Boost on my mark. Three…two…one…mark!

The Headhunters blazed across the surface the garbage pit. The extra power provided by their engine boosts opened a gap between them and their pursuers. As soon as they cleared the eastern side of the structure, they were shaken and tossed by a series of thunderous sonic booms. Lieutenant Redron flipped off his boost and threw his ship into a tight turn. 

The space above the pit looked like the aftermath of a victory parade. Canisters and the debris of clone fighters floated through the air like confetti. The few ships not torn apart plunged into the depths of Coruscant, their stabilizers and flight control systems destroyed by rocket-propelled garbage, of all things.

Loud war whoops came over the squadron freq. "Hot damn, it worked!" yelled Ghostrider Two.

Redron chuckled. Shot down by trash. If any of the enemy pilots lived, they would probably be too embarrassed to ever climb into a cockpit again. "All right, Ghostriders, form up!" he called. "Let's go get us another load!"

***************

"YEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAA!" The triumphant yells of the Republic pilots echoed through the pit control room. Jahn and Sabé whooped with laughter – those sounds could mean only one thing.

"It's working!" Sabé shouted, even before the voice of Ghostrider Six came over the channel. She balled up her fists and pumped them in victory as she spun her chair around. Behind her, Artoo-Detoo chortled and whistled.

"Pit Three-Two-Seven, this is Ghostrider Six. You've made an awful mess up here."

"Yes!" Jahn pounded the console. "Let's get some more!"

Sabé grinned at him and toggled her comlink. "Copy that, Ghostrider Six. Let's make an even bigger one."

Jahn looked for the next big cluster of enemy fighters on his situation board and fed the target location data to her console. Sabé passed on bearings and strengths to Redron. On the other side of Sabé, Obi-Wan communicated with the Emergency Operations Center, reporting on the damage done to the clone fighters. He spoke with Tarkin for several minutes, then turned to the others.

"Help is on the way. There are two wings inbound from the Navy Base Corellia. They should arrive within the next half-hour. I think there is time for one more pass before they arrive."

Sabé grabbed her comlink again. "Ghostrider Six, good guys are on the way. I repeat, good guys are on the way. Two wings inbound from Corellia, ETA thirty minutes. You should have time for another pass. Shall we pollute the skies some more?"

"You're on, Three-Two-Seven," Redron's voice came back. There was a pause and then he said, "Can I interest you in a drink with a garbage-dumping fighter pilot after all this is over?"

Sabé burst out laughing at the sour expression on Jahn's face. She lifted her comlink, but before she could reply, Jahn was on his feet. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up into a mind-boggling kiss, pressing her hard against him. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and Artoo let out a loud electronic wolf-whistle.

When he let her go, Sabé plopped back into her chair, breathless. Jahn smiled and returned to his seat. Sabé stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before thumbing the comm.

"Uh, sorry, Ghostrider Six. The only thing that would get you is a death mark from a ticked-off Republic Scout."

Redron chuckled. "Roger that, Three-Two-Seven. Can't blame a guy for trying. We'll round you up some more targets."

"Military District," Sabé told him, all business once again. "Come in at the same vector and altitude as before."

Ghostrider Six clicked his comm twice in acknowledgement, then ordered his squadron to the new target location. Sabé whirled on Jahn, but her words were forgotten when she saw his wide eyes.

"What is it?" she asked. He pointed at Obi-Wan, who sat rigidly in his chair, his eyes closed, his hands gripping the edge of the console so tightly that Sabé could see finger marks on it. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

"Anakin…." Obi-Wan said softly. "Anakin is injured. He's unconscious." Then his eyes snapped open. "Sith! He's fighting the Sith!"

Sabé stared, her mind filled with terrifying image of Darth Maul standing in the Theed hangar, his double-ended lightsaber held before him. "Padmé is with him!" she cried. She headed for the door.

Obi-Wan grabbed her arm. "No, Sabé. It's too dangerous." 

She turned furious brown eyes on him. "That's my queen up there, Obi-Wan! I'm supposed to be protecting her!"

Obi-Wan put his hands on her shoulders. "And my Padawan is there as well. I will go." He gripped her shoulders tighter. "Sabé. You're needed here. There's a bigger battle going on."

"Go, go!" Jahn urged. He wrapped his arms around Sabé from behind. "We can handle it here."

Obi-Wan bolted out the door. Sabé allowed herself to sag against Jahn, and he tightened his arms around her. Then she pulled away and sat down at her terminal again. She stared at her screen blankly for a moment, then pounded her fist on the console. Jahn reached out and put his hand over hers. Behind them, Artoo beeped mournfully.

***************

Anakin screamed as he charged across the platform. Without even the slightest pretense at calm, he barreled into Darth Nemesis with such fury that he almost forced them off the edge of the platform and into the abyss below. He struck at the Sith Lord over and over again, lost in a red cloud of rage and frustration, consumed by guilt for his failure to protect Padmé and his grief at seeing her fall, gravely wounded. Even in her unconscious state, he felt her pain and it drove him into a renewed frenzy. 

He bore in on Nemesis, hammering at the Sith with his lightsaber. He cared nothing for his own safety - all he saw was Padmé, burned, bruised, perhaps mortally wounded as she tried to protect him. He kicked his enemy's feet from under him and stabbed at him. Nemesis rolled away, but Anakin dogged him, kicking the man in the ribs and taking satisfaction from his grunts of pain.

Nemesis Force-pushed Anakin away and gave himself some space to jump to his feet. His reprieve was short. Anakin rushed him again, knocking him back, releasing every charged emotion he felt, beating at the Sith mercilessly. Nemesis backpedaled and Anakin could feel his uncertainty and…fear? Yes, the Sith feared him, and Anakin felt a rush of power so heady it made him dizzy.

The lightsabers smashed together with a spine-curdling screech. Anakin twisted his wrists, forcing the red saber aside, and slammed his elbow across the Sith's temple. Nemesis reeled back, and Anakin followed with a snap kick to his groin and a backhand across his face. Nemesis retreated as fast as he could. Anakin pursued, swinging wildly with his saber, trying to force his enemy off the edge of the platform. Their blades locked again, and Nemesis tried to knock Anakin's feet from under him. Their legs tangled and they both crashed to the deck. Their sabers skidded away from them.

What had been a duel degenerated into a brawl as the two men clinched, pounding each other with their fists as they rolled around on the floor. Anakin locked his arm around the Sith Lord's neck and punched him in the ribs again and again. He felt one snap, and let out a whoop as Nemesis cursed in pain. But Nemesis retaliated with brutal punches to Anakin's kidneys, and the Jedi thought the battle might end with him throwing up all over his enemy.

Nemesis jerked Anakin to his feet and head-butted him. Anakin felt a sickening crunch in the bridge of his nose and stars exploded behind his eyes. He stumbled back and fell on his rear end. Nemesis called his lightsaber to his hand and leaped at Anakin with a howl of triumph.

As the Sith Lord raised his saber to strike him down, Anakin called his own weapon. It smacked into his palm, already lit, and he thrust up desperately.

Nemesis let out a strangled cry and looked at the blue blade that impaled his chest. He stared down at Anakin, shock and disbelief reflected in his golden eyes. Anakin stood up, keeping a tight grip on the hilt of his saber. He gave the Sith Lord a look of supreme contempt, then pushed him away, letting go of his saber. He watched with dark satisfaction as Nemesis fell to his knees, then toppled onto his side. The gold eyes settled into a sightless stare, and Anakin gave the limp body several kicks before retrieving his weapon.

He ran over to Padmé's crumpled form and gently rolled her over. Tears blurred his vision as he took in her ravaged face and cruel burns. Both cheekbones were badly bruised, and he suspected that the right one was broken. Her right eye was swollen shut and blood trickled from a gash at the corner of her mouth. Her white suit was slashed open, and Anakin swallowed hard at the sight of the angry blackened burn that ran from her shoulder down between her breasts to her hip. Another one crossed her belly and another her side. _That monster! I couldn't kill him enough times to make up for what he did to her._

He gathered Padmé into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. Placing his hand on her forehead, he let the Force wash over her. Her eyes blinked open and she took several jerky breaths.

"Anakin…." She let out a small cry and Anakin winced as he felt her pain through the Force.

"Shhh…." He held her closer. "I know it hurts."

Tears ran down her cheeks. "Make it stop…" she pleaded. "Please, Anakin…make it stop." Her fists clenched in his tunic and he inhaled sharply as her agony hit him like a shock wave.

Anakin pulled the torn flap of her suit aside. His tears fell on her skin as he placed his hand over her shoulder. Then he delved deep into the Force and gently traced his fingers along the burn, spilling the healing Force over it to cool the wound and damp the hurt. Padme relaxed a bit as her pain lessened. Anakin repeated his actions over the burns on her belly, side, and legs. She still needed medical attention, but he had eased her somewhat. He put his hand on her face and tried to absorb as much of her pain as possible.

"I'm sorry, Padmé, I'm sorry."

She traced the black and blue rings forming around his eyes and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "For what, Ani?"

"For not protecting you. For letting that monster hurt you. For making you have to fight." He hung his head. "Some Jedi I am."

Padmé took his chin and made him look at her. "It's not your fault, Ani."

Anakin crushed her to his chest, not letting up until she cried out. "I love you so much, Padmé."

"I know, Ani, I know. Now, if you really want to make me feel better, kiss me."

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, then rained tiny kisses all over her wounded face before returning to her mouth to linger a bit.

"Mmmm…" Padmé murmured. "I feel better already…"

Anakin looked down at her. She tried to smile, but on her injured face, it ended up looking more like a grimace. He blinked back more tears and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Now what, Anakin?" she asked softly.

He sensed that she meant more than what they should do right now, in this moment. He closed his eyes and let the Force carry him through. Images, visions flashed before him, so fast that he couldn't grasp any of them. He felt them more than saw them - some joyful, some heartbreaking, but all with Padmé at their center, as she had been since that day on Tatooine ten years before.

"Let's get married," he blurted out.

He saw the surprise in her eyes and wanted to kick himself. He'd envisioned his proposal over and over again, and it always involved a romantic dinner, a poetic declaration of love with him on one knee, and the presentation of a ring, in keeping with Naboo tradition. Not lying injured and dirty on a maintenance platform outside the Galactic Senate. But somehow, it seemed too urgent to wait. He held his breath.

Padmé touched his lips with her fingers. "I'd love to, Ani."

As he leaned over to kiss her again, a thunderous roar split the air, shaking the platform. Two squadrons of Headhunters blazed by, cruising at full combat speed. In the distance, they could see even more of the Republic fighters, and the brilliant bloom of explosions began to light up the night sky.

"Well," Anakin said. "Looks like someone finally got off their duff and called for help. I better get you inside. You need a healer." 

He scooped her up, and she bit back a cry at the jarring movement. He whispered his apologies, letting the Force flow over her again. Padmé nestled her head against his chest.

"Thank you, Ani," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For saving me. For being here. For being you."

Anakin held her even closer as his tears welled up again. "I will never let anyone hurt you again, Padmé," he said, his voice hoarse, his jaw tight with determination. 

"I promise, no one will ever hurt you again."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Sunlight streamed through the large windows of the new Jedi Council Chamber. The masters had relocated to a different tower, as the previous one had become unstable in the wake of the clone attack. The panoramic view was still spectacular, but now it showed a picture of destruction, not only of the Temple, but also of much of this area of Coruscant. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin stood in the center of the chamber, on a different mosaic in a different room, facing a much-changed Jedi Council. Four of the twelve Council seats stood empty, adorned only by brown robes and lightsabers in memory of the Masters who once occupied them. Depa Billaba, Even Piell, Plo Koon, and Saesee Tiin, all killed in the attack on the Temple. 

A heavy pall lay over the room. The Jedi had long known and accepted that they could be in harm's way and most of them did not fear death. But they were stunned at the magnitude of the destruction, the loss of so many innocent lives and in disbelief that something like this could happen here, in the place that they considered their safe haven. In a few hours' time, the Jedi Order had been reduced to a shadow of itself, its leadership cut down and its members uncertain of what would happen next. And as the funeral pyres burned, many despaired that the Order would never fully recover.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not one of them. The death and destruction horrified him, but he could not imagine that the Order would not rise above this disaster and continue in its traditions of service to the Republic. The Order was vibrant and resilient and he was confident of its restoration, though a vaguely uneasy feeling came over him when he contemplated the immediate future. Obi-Wan dismissed the feeling as anxiety about his Padawan. 

He hadn't had to search hard to find Anakin after he left the garbage pit. His Padawan had fairly roared back to consciousness, broadcasting fury like a signal from a homing beacon. But by the time Obi-Wan reached him, the battle had ended and Anakin was leaving the platform with a badly injured Padmé cradled in his arms. When Obi-Wan questioned him about what had transpired, Anakin merely jerked his head at the platform door and snapped, "See for yourself." Then he strode off without so much as a backward glance at his master.

Obi-Wan had found the head and body of a Mandlore warrior on the platform, along with that of a white-haired man who wore black tunics of the same kind he had seen on Darth Maul so many years ago. Both were victims of a lightsaber. Black scorches marked the deck, railings and catwalks of the platform. Obi-Wan stood and stared at the Sith's body for a long time, recalling his own battle with a Dark Lord and what it had almost cost him. Anakin would pay a price for his victory here. Only the magnitude was undetermined.

Obi-Wan glanced over at his Padawan as they stood before the remains of the Council. Anakin's face was placid, but he was not. Resentment and anger simmered beneath the surface, along with guilt and a curious elation. Anakin had not spoken more than a few words to him in the days since the attack. He spent most of his time in the healer's wing with Padmé and the few moments he was not there were spent brooding next to the waterfall in the Gardens. 

Obi-Wan knew his Padawan felt responsible for Padmé's injuries and his anger was understandable in that regard. But Anakin had demanded that the Council raise him to Knighthood and was incensed by the immediate refusal. Obi-Wan had been raised after he defeated Darth Maul, Anakin argued. Was he not deserving of the same honor? Master Yoda had explained, more gently than usual, that defeat of a dark enemy did not automatically qualify one for Knighthood. Anakin would have to take the Trials, just like any other Padawan. The aged Master then added fuel to the fire by proclaiming Anakin unready for the Trials.

So Anakin stewed in his ill feelings, becoming short-tempered with everyone except Padmé and brooding over the unfairness of it all. The young man's sulky behavior irritated Obi-Wan to the point where he was in almost constant meditation over it. Anakin had the tendency to see everything in black and white. Obi-Wan had been raised after defeating a Sith; therefore he should be also. No allowances for the difference in circumstances, their ages, and time spent training. Anakin's inability (or refusal) to see subtleties and shades of gray would put a serious hamper on his ability to be effective as a Jedi.

And he had given in to his anger and let it guide him through the battle. That, more than anything else, was why the Council had refused to grant him Knighthood or even his Trials.

But Obi-Wan also sensed there was more to Anakin's demand to be raised than simply feeling that he deserved it. He had another reason and if Obi-Wan knew his Padawan at all, it had something to do with Padmé.

"Unusual request this is, Padawan Skywalker."

"Yes, Master, it is." Anakin was the picture of serenity with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his dark cloak. Only the fire in his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "Unusual, but not unprecedented. And since you refuse to raise me, I feel that this is the best way for me to serve the Republic."

"Service you seek, hmm?" Yoda asked, his ears lifting. "Or a means of revenge?" 

Anakin's jaw tightened. "Master Yoda, both of the places I have called home have been attacked and people I care for injured and killed. I merely wish to help spare others the same pain."

"You do understand that if we grant this request, it will delay the completion of your training and your eventual ascent to Knighthood?" asked Mace Windu.

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan stepped forward. "Masters, I must express my misgivings about Anakin's request. His training is not complete and he has experienced too much tragedy of late." He ignored Anakin's furious glare. "To separate him from me now could lead to a serious setback."

"You will not be separated, Obi-Wan," said Mace. As you know, Senator Antilles has submitted a bill to the Senate calling for the integration of the armed forces of individual Republic systems into a central Republic Defense Force. This bill will likely pass by an over whelming majority, as the Supreme Chancellor has thrown his support behind it. One of the amendments called for the Chancellor to request the service of the Jedi in the Republic military. We spoke privately with Chancellor Palpatine today and have agreed to allow this."

He raised his hand to cut off any protest. "One of the stipulations of our agreement was the posting of Masters and Padawans together. Prince Bail Organa has specifically requested your service in his sector, Obi-Wan. You will be commissioned and serve as a division commander under Organa. Anakin will be assigned as a pilot to one of the squadrons attached to your division."

"Defending Core Worlds?" Anakin asked with disgust.

"Fighting wherever you are needed, Padawan," Mace said sharply. "You cannot pick and choose where you will render your service. You will be subject to the orders and assignments of the Republic military, just like any other soldier. Is that clear?"

They locked eyes. Finally Anakin nodded and said, "Yes, Master."

Mace sat back in his chair. "You should receive activation orders within the next few days. May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan bowed and turned to go. He stopped when Anakin did not follow. The young man remained facing the Council, his face determined.

"More you have to say, young Padawan?" Yoda asked.

"A request, Master," Anakin replied.

"Another request, Anakin?" Adi Gallia asked, humor in her voice. "You should hope we are feeling generous."

Obi-Wan moved back to his Padawan's side. Anakin's face showed a mixture of apprehension and hope.

"Masters, I respectfully request the Council's permission to get married."

Obi-Wan's heart sank. Anakin was setting himself up for more resentment and heartbreak. The Council members looked at each other. None of them seemed surprised.

Finally Yoda spoke. "Wise, this is not, Anakin."

Anakin stiffened, balling his fists up by his sides. "Master…."

"Padawan Skywalker, now is not the time to dwell on personal concerns," Mace said sternly. "The Temple and the Republic have been attacked, with great loss of life. We are making war preparations and the Jedi will fight alongside Republic troops. Our position on such relationships for Padawans notwithstanding, entering into such a bond right now is not prudent. You must complete your training."

"And with the coming war, such a union could be seen as a move by Naboo to secure special protection from the Jedi," Ki-Adi Mundi pointed out. "It could cause acrimony in the Senate over the assignment of Jedi-augmented forces."

"This has nothing to do with politics!" Anakin yelled. He shook off Obi-Wan's calming hand and glared at Mundi.

"We understand that, Anakin," Adi said gently. "The Council does not deny the bond between you and Queen Amidala. Have patience. Cool your blood. The political situation will stabilize and you and the Queen can be married when you are raised."

Anakin shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, and colder than Obi-Wan had ever heard it.

"No. When Master Qui-Gon brought me here, he warned me that the life of a Jedi was a difficult one. He did not say that it had to be devoid of love and happiness. Yet that seems to be what you wish for me. Time and again you have kept me apart from those I loved and it has always ended in heartbreak."

He looked around at all the Masters. "Not this time."

Obi-Wan touched his shoulder. "Anakin, don't sacrifice your reason for being for—"

"She _is_ my reason for being!" Anakin hissed through clenched teeth. He looked around again. "If I cannot be a Jedi and married to the woman I love, then…."

He pulled a vibroknife from his tunic and made a quick motion. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, leaving the Council and Obi-Wan to stare at his Padawan braid, coiled on the tiled floor.

***************

The door to Padmé's room slid open and Anakin stepped quietly inside. He wrinkled his nose. No matter how much time he spent here, he would never get used to the antiseptic odors. _If I ever have to live or work around such smells, I hope someone will put me out of my misery_. He couldn't wait to get Padmé out of here. 

The healers had finally given up on keeping him out, especially after he had kicked up such a fuss that he woke every patient except the comatose. He now came and went as he pleased, spending far more time in the room than out of it.

Sabé sat upright on the room's small divan, sound asleep. Her blaster lay in her lap. Anakin winced at the way her head tilted. How did her neck stand the strain? He eased the handmaiden into a reclining position and covered her with one of the hospital blankets. 

Sabé was probably the only person who felt guiltier about Padmé's injuries than he did. She had tried several times to resign her position, citing her failure to protect the Queen from harm as the cause. Captain Panaka had shredded every request and Padmé had finally threatened to assign her as a goodwill ambassador to the Gungans if she didn't stop.

And now she guarded Padmé more zealously than ever. She had not left this room except to bathe and change clothes since Padmé was admitted. She was more sharp-tongued than ever, and even the healers had taken to treading lightly around her. Jahn Elluis had been on the receiving end of several of her tirades when he tried to get her to rest for a while. He finally gave up, mumbling under his breath about stubborn females. But he kept coming back to sit with her.

It occurred to Anakin that in all the years he'd known Sabé, this was the first time he had ever seen her sleep.

He kissed Sabé's forehead and moved to the bed where Padmé lay sleeping. He lowered himself onto it gently, trying not to disturb her, and took her hand. Though her face bore only vestiges of the horrible bruises left by the Sith Lord, tears still threatened as he lightly touched the dusky spots remaining on her cheekbones. The pinkish tint of her healing burns was just visible in the neck of her nightgown. 

The abdominal wound had been the worst by far. The Sith's lightsaber had come within a millimeter of gutting her, and infection had already started to set in when Anakin got her into the healer's wing. She spent three days floating in a bacta tank to fight the infection, heal the burns and help her body recover from the shock.

Anakin leaned down and touched his lips to hers. When he pulled back, her brown eyes were open and gazing into his. He bent and kissed her with a little more enthusiasm, but remained mindful of her injuries.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better now. You're a wonderful sight to wake up to," Padmé sighed. She pushed herself up, and Anakin adjusted her pillows to make her more comfortable.

"Speaking of sights, did you ever think you'd see that?" He gestured at the sleeping Sabé.

Padmé looked over at her bodyguard. "So she _does_ sleep," she said, laughing. "I never thought I'd see it. You know, Sabé has been working for me for ten years and this is the first time I've ever seen her anything but alert."

"At least she's stopped trying to resign."

Padmé's face fell. "It wasn't her fault. I'm a grown woman and I make my own decisions. I thought that she would have learned that by now." She sighed heavily. "Such loyalty. I'm just trying to convince myself that I merit it."

Anakin stroked her hand with his thumb. "Padmé, you being her Queen is only a small part of her devotion. You're her friend as well, and she loves you. As do all of your handmaidens."

Padmé was silent and Anakin knew she was thinking about Saché. The handmaiden's death haunted her. She had mumbled Saché's name over and over while in the bacta tank and often jerked awake from her dreams sobbing. The healers had finally sedated her until the dreams stopped. Anakin had repeatedly assured her that he had taken care of the handmaiden's body and that Padmé would be able to escort her back to Naboo to be returned to her family.

Padmé wasn't the only one affected. Yané had resigned. Shaken by her inability to help Saché, she had announced her intention to return to Naboo and attend medical school. Perhaps with the proper training, she said, she could save lives instead of watching them slip away. The pleas of Padmé and Sabé fell on deaf ears. Yané remained unconvinced, even when Anakin pointed out that she had saved Eirtaé's life. 

But she had not been able to save Eirtaé's leg. Having refused cybernetic enhancement for the damaged limb, Eirtaé would walk with a limp for the rest of her life, which meant she was no longer eligible to serve as a Queen's handmaiden.

In a single day, Padmé had lost most of her protectors and confidants.

"I'm still here, Padmé," Anakin said, touching her cheek. "I will never leave you."

"Are you sure, Ani?" she asked quietly.

Shocked at her words and the troubled look in her eyes, Anakin took her face in both hands. "Padmé, how can you ask me that?!"

Her brown eyes searched his face, looking for something that appeared to elude her. Finally she dropped her gaze and tried to turn away from him. "I…I don't know."

Anakin held her face, not letting her turn away, silently begging for her to look at him. Why did she seem to be slipping away from him? Desperate, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, trying to remind her of all they had shared. He lowered her back against the pillows as she began to respond to him. Her soft moan told him that he'd reached her, and he felt her hand grasping for something near his right shoulder.

Padmé jerked away from him, her eyes wide. "Anakin, where's your braid?"

Silence.

"Where is it, Anakin?" she demanded. "You said they wouldn't raise you…."

He clutched her hands. "I'm leaving the Order, Padmé. They won't raise me and we can't be together until they do. I can't be a Padawan and be with you. I had to make a choice." 

He took a deep breath. "I chose you."

"Oh, Ani…." She looked at him sadly. "I don't want to be the reason you leave the Jedi."

Anakin gripped her hands harder. He didn't need the Force to know what Padmé was thinking. She would step back. Push him away. Make him finish what he started, even if it meant sacrificing their relationship. 

He had to make her understand. See how important she was. He didn't think he could bear it if she distanced herself from him now.

"Padmé, please, don't push me away. I need you." He drew in a ragged breath before plunging on. "The Force is pulling me in too many different directions right now. I see so many paths to the future, all of them strong and compelling, but I can't see the outcome of any of them. And none stand out as the _right_ path. The one I _must_ choose."

He pulled her to him. "So I am choosing to follow my heart. I haven't done that nearly enough in the last ten years and it has cost me dearly. My mother. My home. Friends that I should have remembered, but didn't. I am not going to let it cost me you, too. 

"I love you, Padmé. My path leads to you. And if following that path means leaving the Jedi, then so be it."

Before Padmé could answer him, there was a rap at the door. Sabé was on her feet instantly, scowling as her blaster clattered to the floor. She snatched up the weapon and threw Anakin a poisonous look before going to the door. She spoke quietly to the guard outside, then turned to Padmé.

"Your Highness, Viceroy Organa and the representatives from the Supreme Chancellor's office are here to see you about Naboo's representation in the Senate."

"I thought you weren't allowed visitors yet!" Anakin hissed.

"Anakin, you're a visitor," Padmé pointed out, amusement in her eyes.

"That's different!"

She regarded him with patience. "How so?"

He glared at her, unable to come up with an answer. 

Sabé cleared her throat. "Your Highness, Prince Organa—"

Anakin stood and jabbed his finger at her. "Sabé, you tell that pompous windbag that he can damn well wait until—"

"Anakin Skywalker, you do not make the decisions about who can and cannot visit me!" Padmé said. "How presumptious—"

"He doesn't belong in here! I do!" Anakin yelled. "You don't need to bothered with a bunch of petty political concerns right now!"

Padmé sat up straight and pinned him with a cool stare. "Senator Bibble was killed in the attack. I must make a decision on our representation in the Republic. I did not cease to be the Queen of Naboo when I was injured, Anakin."

"Maybe you should have!"

Anakin crossed his arms as Padmé stared at him. He could sense her shock at his statement. He hadn't meant for it to slip out, but he did not retract it. Why did she insist on pushing herself? Couldn't she see that he was just doing what was best for her? 

And Organa knew what happened to her. Why was he here now? Did Padmé want to see him for some reason other than politics? He looked at her helplessly.

"You don't belong with them, Padmé," he said, pleading. "You belong with me."

They locked eyes. Anakin saw the disappointment in hers as the silence stretched between them.

"Is that how you would have it, Anakin?" she asked. "Would you have me cease serving my people and my world to go with you?"

He remained quiet, looking at the floor.

"I love you dearly, Ani, but I told you when we started that I could never allow anything to come before my world and my people. And you said that you would never ask it of me." 

She reached for his hand. "We are so alike, you and I. We are both creatures of duty, following our hearts and trying to do what is right. So much of what I love about you is your overdeveloped sense of obligation and your ceaseless pursuit of your dreams. Being a Jedi is part of your identity, Anakin. Giving it up will change who you are. Would you ask me to become something I'm not? And could you still love me if I did?"

Hurt swelled in his chest at her apparent rejection. "I'll always love you, Padmé," he choked out. "No matter what you do. I thought you understood that."

He turned away and walked quickly to the door, brushing by Sabé as he left. 

Padmé watched him sadly, then said, "Let them in, Sabé."

***************

Obi-Wan stood by the tall window overlooking the main entrance to the Jedi Temple, watching Anakin as the young man walked across the plaza away from the building. Anakin's bowed head and slumped shoulders made him seem younger and smaller than he was, and Obi-Wan wondered if the young man was having second thoughts about his decision. But then Anakin's head lifted and he hurried across the plaza with purposeful strides.

Obi-Wan looked down at the Padawan braid clutched in his hand. He rubbed it between his fingers as he replayed the scene in the Council chamber over and over again in his head. Anakin had caught everyone by surprise, and the shock resonating through the Force had been almost palpable. As impulsive and headstrong as his apprentice was, no one had anticipated him rejecting the Order completely. Obi-Wan tried to ignore the nagging sense of failure that kept rising in the back of his mind – failure to meet his obligations to the Order, to Qui-Gon, and most important, to Anakin himself.

"But you cannot make his decisions for him, Obi-Wan."

He saw Adi Gallia's figure reflected in the glass and turned to face her.

"Anakin is an adult, free to make his own choices," she said.

"Yes, Master, I understand that," Obi-Wan replied. "But it was my responsibility to prepare him to make wise choices, and that seems to be something that I have failed to do. As demonstrated time and again."

She eyed him for a moment, then said, "Walk with me."

He fell into step beside her, and they walked through the Temple in silence. Obi-Wan watched Adi from the corner of his eye, wondering why he had not sought her advice more often during Anakin's training. Adi had infinite patience and a special rapport with children that he had not taken advantage of. His pride had come before what was best for Anakin.

"I wondered that myself at first, Obi-Wan," Adi said, picking up on the direction of his thoughts. "Perhaps it was not pride as much as your need to prove to the Council – and to yourself – that you were ready for such a tremendous responsibility."

Obi-Wan pondered that. True, he remembered the pressure he felt to prove himself worthy of the trust that Qui-Gon and the Council had thrust upon him. And the feeling that asking for assistance too often was an indicator that he was not ready to teach. 

"Admission of what you do not know is the first sign of wisdom," Adi said, and Obi-Wan reminded himself to shield his thoughts better.

They walked in silence to the Temple Gardens. Obi-Wan was not surprised to find his feet carrying him to the small waterfall in the center. He and Adi sank down onto the soft grass. Obi-Wan breathed deeply, taking in the fresh air, sweet fragrances, and soothing sounds. But today, the hiss and gurgle of the flowing water provided no comfort.

"Anakin had – has – no patience, Master," Obi-Wan said. "Everything has always come to him so easily that he feels it is a waste of time to pursue the deeper understandings. And he has always had a free-floating anxiety about him."

"I believe that Anakin felt rootless when he came here," Adi said. "Up until Qui-Gon took him away, his mother was the stabilizing influence in his life. Then Qui-Gon was taken from him too, and he had nothing to center himself on."

She turned her gaze on Obi-Wan. "This is not a criticism, Obi-Wan. You have carried out your duties to Anakin with great care and attention. But for some reason, he never looked upon you as his stable center. You were never able to fill the place that his mother ocuppied."

Obi-Wan nodded. He and Anakin had grown close, though he didn't know if he could rightly define it as a father-son relationship. But there was a place in Anakin's heart that had always remained closed off to Obi-Wan.

He had a flash of insight. "Anakin began to look upon Queen Amidala as the center on which to orient himself," he said. 

"Indeed," Adi said with a slight smile. "Without delving into your Padawan's innermost psyche, I believe that the circumstances of his early life created a need for him to have strong women around him. And he has always had a special bond with the Queen."

"Is it too late for him, Master?"

"Perhaps we have been too rigid in our application of the Code to Anakin," Adi said, oblivious to his question. "He is the Chosen One, after all, and came to us under unusual circumstances. The Code provides strong guidance, but it is just that: guidance. Perhaps we were mistaken in how we approached his unique existence."

"Master?"

"No, Obi-Wan. I don't believe it's ever too late for anyone," Adi replied. "Least of all for Anakin."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Anakin stood in the center of the outcropping on the Theed cliffs. It was bathed in the light of Naboo's full moon, casting long shadows through the trees and covering everything with a luminous glow. He looked into the distance where the lights of Theed twinkled and danced, the city illuminated for the celebration of the coronation of Naboo's new Queen.

He looked at Padmé, who was standing over by the small creek. Her face tilted up toward the sky and a few loose curls danced in the warm breeze. The moonlight reflected off the tiny beads woven into her gown, giving the impression that she had been cast among the stars themselves. _She really is an angel_, Anakin thought. His pulse quickened as he watched her and remembered the last time they had been here. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

When he had left Padmé with the healers that day, he had gone straight to the Republic Navy personnel center and asked for his orders. Then he slipped away for training, not bothering to tell Padmé or anyone else where he had gone. The pilot training was boring, filled with repetitive tasks that he had mastered as a pre-teen pod race driver. As a result, he often clashed with the instructor pilots, officers, and noncoms at the training base, earning a reputation for being an arrogant, disagreeable maverick. Though his fellow trainees adored him - not least for the fact that his antics kept the pressure off them - he was moody and unhappy.

And lonely. He hadn't said goodbye to Padmé when he left her in that hospital room. He hadn't intended to leave that day. Going to the Navy office had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He had not anticipated how much he would miss her, and as the weeks stretched on, the dull ache in his heart became more and more intense. She had not communicated with him at all, and he worried about her recovery and her ability to serve her world, which was more precious to her than anything. He worried about Bail Organa - had the Viceroy taken advantage of Anakin's absence? Finally unable to stand it any longer, he had sent her a tentative message.

She didn't respond for a long while, and Anakin despaired that he had lost her. He was on the verge of abandoning his pilot training to go back to her when the letter arrived. Not a holo-message, but a letter, handwritten on fine paper in elegant, looping script. Her scent wafted from it, and Anakin thought he might pass out. It was a friendly letter, asking about the progress of his training and when he expected to be assigned to a squadron. His heart sank at the lack of intimacy in her words, until he reached the last lines.

__

I miss you terribly, Anakin. The Palace seems empty without your energy to fill it, and my nights are cold and lonely without your warmth and love to keep me company. I pray that you remain safe and never forget that I love you.

Yours,

Padmé

It had taken all of Anakin's willpower not to steal a ship and go to her then. But enclosed in the letter was another envelope with a heavy card inside. It read: _The People of Naboo request the honor of your presence at the coronation of Queen Jamilla and the celebration to follow._

Anakin had felt sick. Had Padmé given up her throne willlingly? Or had her people called for elections? He couldn't believe it might be the latter. Padmé was a good queen, and her people loved her. He scanned the card and saw at the bottom: _As a personal guest of Senator Padmé Naberrie._

Seeing her at the coronation ball tonight had solidified his resolve. She looked stunning. Her shimmering white gown clung to her curves and her hair was piled on top of her head, exposing the elegant arch of her neck. He had never seen Padmé dressed formally, only Queen Amidala, and it had taken all of his control not to gape at her. He walked over and asked her to dance, and once she was in his arms, it was as if they had never been apart.

He pulled himself from his reverie and looked over at Padmé. She wandered aimlessly along the small creek. She wore a wistful expression and Anakin grinned as he sensed the direction of her thoughts. _Me, too, love. Me too_. He glided up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Padmé leaned back against him and he kissed her neck, smiling at the little shiver that ran through her body.

"Having second thoughts, Senator?"

"About what, Ani?" she asked.

"About that," he said, waving in the general direction of the Palace. "Giving it up."

"It wasn't mine to keep, Anakin," she said. "Naboo is ready for a new Queen. And with the war, we need to lift our eyes beyond our horizon. I felt that I could better serve my people in the Senate, where perhaps I can influence the decisions that will affect Naboo the most."

Then she grinned. "And as a Senator, I will have an excuse to inspect fighter squadrons with handsome young pilots that look irresistable in uniform."

Anakin tightened his arms around her and they just stood there for a while, enjoying the view and each other's company. Anakin squirmed mentally, trying to screw up his courage for what he planned to do next.

"Have I told how beautiful you look tonight?" he whispered into her hair.

Padmé let out a small laugh; it was a sound that Anakin hadn't realized how much he had missed until right now. "Only about a hundred times, Ani."

"Well, you really _do_ look like an angel in this dress," Anakin said. "The only other times I've seen you dressed up were when you were wearing one of your three-ton Royal tents that completely hid you from view."

"So it's the dress you find beautiful and not me," Padmé said. She turned in his arms and gave him a playful pout.

"Of course not!" he protested. He bent to give her a lingering kiss, then kept his lips just above hers as he spoke. "But I was hoping that you would wear something special for me tonight."

She gave him a provocative look. "That would depend on what it is…and how long you intend for me to keep it on."

Anakin suddenly felt lightheaded and he resisted the urge to tackle her right there. He fumbled in the sleeve of his uniform tunic and came out with small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a ring set with an intricately cut sky-blue sapphire.

"This is what I want you to wear," he said, gazing into her eyes. "As for how long…would forever be too much to ask?"

Padmé stared at him as he dropped to one knee.

"I love you, Padmé Amidala Naberrie. I've loved you since the first time I saw you and my love has only grown stronger with time. We were meant to be together, you and I. The will of the Force, destiny, whatever you want to call it. But there is no denying our bond."

He took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. "I want to be with you always. To watch you sleep. To see you awaken every morning. To know you'll always be there. Nothing would honor me more than having you accept me as your husband. Will you marry me, Padmé?"

Padmé threw her arms around his neck. "Of course I will, Ani!"

Anakin grabbed her and whirled her around, delighting in her screams of laughter. It seemed so long since they had been able to steal an unguarded moment. He set her down, still holding her, and cupped her face with one hand. Then as nervously as he had the first time, he pulled her against him and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, but slow and tender, softly stroking her lips with his. Her body trembled as her fingers wove into his hair, and Anakin felt a sharp stab of pleasure in his middle, a weakness in his limbs. Just when he thought he might collapse, Padmé sank to the grass, pulling him atop her.

He broke the kiss and propped up on his elbows to look at her. "Careful, Senator," he said. "You don't want ruin this beautiful dress rolling around on the ground."

She gave him a sly smile. "I'm sure you can think of a way to keep that from happening, Lieutenant."

Anakin grinned. "Indeed I can," he said, reaching for one of the gown's thin straps.

***************

Darth Sidious stood alone on a high Palace balcony, musing over the recent events. The attack on Coruscant had been very fruitful. A shaken Senate had approved Alderaan's military consolidation bill by an overwhelming majority, and the proposed increases in military spending and research engendered only a few weak voices of protest. They were quickly silenced by frightened Senators and strategically placed 'donations' from Corporate worlds anxious to cash in on the spoils of war.

And the next phase was already underway. He would move to broker influence and solidify his position. The Republic would hand him what he desired most, and with a few exceptions, there would be no need for violence. The normal course of war and a few 'assists' from his minions would see to that.

Sidious allowed himself a grim smile. Yes, his plans were proceeding as he had foreseen, with one notable hitch – the Skywalker boy. His apprentice had failed to bring him the young man, instead falling before the Jedi's saber. And while Sidious could not permit such an offense to go unpunished – years of preparation and effort had gone into the training of Darth Nemesis – he marveled at Skywalker's raw power. The boy was a deep well of resentment and anger, just waiting for the right person to show him how to tap it.

Sidious chuckled. Perhaps Nemesis's death had been useful after all. Skywalker was yet too immersed in the Light to be forcibly turned. But he had experienced the rush of power that came from the Dark, and like a spice addict, would go back to it again. And again. Yes, seduction would be much more effective than coercion.

He looked out over the Theed cliffs, his lined visage thoughtful as he sensed the passionate interlude between Skywalker and the erstwhile Queen of Naboo. The Jedi might not be able to keep the young man anchored in the Light, but she would. Senator Naberrie had always been troublesome and would continue to be, but he could use her in his endeavor to bring Skywalker over. That would accomplish two of his objectives – the taking of the apprentice needed to complete his plans and the painful demise of a long-time enemy.

__

Yes, he mused. _The boy's passion will be the path to his conversion_. The Jedi were right to discourage love – it was the seed and root of so many other, less pleasant emotions. All of which would serve Sidious' purposes very well.

Everything was proceeding in the manner he desired. All he had to do now was make any necessary adjustments to keep the plan on course.

***************

"Anakin, calm down," Jahn Elluis admonished for what seemed like the hundredth time. He watched as Anakin paced back and forth across the stone floor of the small temple. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Anakin realized what he was doing, and stopped. Five seconds later, he was in motion again, bouncing around the room like a hyperactive insect. The temple's priestess, a tiny, gray-haired woman dressed in plain white robes, stood by the altar and looked at him with amusement.

"Calm yourself, my son," she said, her voice surprisingly large for such small person. "You're not the first young man I've joined with his beloved, and I haven't lost one yet."

Anakin halted again and looked out at the Naberrie family, seated on the temple's simple wooden benches. He flushed as he saw Padmé's father watching him with a bemused expression. Cordel Naberrie was a big man with graying hair and an intimidating presence. Anakin's voice had shaken when he presented himself to Cordel to ask his permission to marry Padmé. But the big farmer had just roared with laughter and given Anakin a teeth-rattling clap on the back. _If you can handle her, son, she's all yours._

Anakin glanced at the rest of the Naberrie clan, gathered for the wedding of their most precocious member. Aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters. Anakin wished for his mother's presence. He had no family to be with him on this important day. Not even any of the Jedi. Jahn Elluis was serving as his escort and witness.

__

Why should they be here? None of them wanted this for me anyway. I think it might have killed some of them to see me happy.

He tried not to squirm, but couldn't help pulling at the hem of his white tunic. In contrast to the lavishness of most Naboo garments, wedding clothing was simple and plain. Both bride and groom wore white, to symbolize a new beginning. While Anakin appreciated the simplicity, on this occasion he would have liked to be dressed more formally. He felt like a slob standing next to Jahn, who wore his full dress uniform.

"Don't fidget, Anakin. It's unbecoming an officer and a gentleman," said a soft voice behind him.

Anakin whirled around to see a man in a Republic Army full dress uniform standing behind him. His eyes widened. Only the absence of a Padawan braid and some strands of gray mixed with the man's auburn hair kept him from thinking he had stepped back in time.

"Obi-Wan?" He had to ask the question despite the distinctive Force presence. He hadn't seen his master clean-shaven in almost ten years. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to stand with my Pad – my friend – on the most important day of his life," Obi-Wan replied with a smile. He looked at Jahn. "That is, if you will allow me that honor."

Jahn grinned and backed away, waving in a "be my guest" gesture. Obi-Wan turned and Anakin's uncertain expression slowly melted into a smile as he reached for the outstretched hand. When he clasped Obi-Wan's hand, he felt a profound sense of affection and relief.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said, his voice breaking. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded toward the rear of the temple. Anakin turned and caught his breath. 

Padmé stood in the arched doorway. She wore a simple white shift, cinched at the waist by a plain brown cord. Her dark curls tumbled free about her face and shoulders, and the morning sun cast a golden halo around her head. Her feet were bare. 

"I see what you mean about seeing angels," Obi-Wan whispered.

Anakin, not trusting his voice, could only nod. He struggled not to gape as Padmé walked throught the center of the temple, Sabé at her shoulder as escort and witness. Even in the plain shift, her beauty seemed to illuminate the entire room, and Anakin pinched himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. Padmé gave him a brilliant smile as she approached, and he knew his wide grin probably looked a bit crazy. He held out his hand. She took it in hers and he guided her to the altar.

"Who stands with this woman?" asked the priestess.

"I do," said Sabé, bowing to the priestess. "Sabé Martiarrie of the city of Theed, and representative of the Court of Queen Jamilla, who has given sanction to this union."

"Present yourself," the priestess said to Padmé, her arms spread wide in welcome.

Padmé bowed before the altar. "I, Padmé Amidala Naberrie, daughter of Cordel and Naré, do submit myself for bonding in accordance with Naboo tradition."

The priestess turned. "And who stands with this man?"

"I do," Obi-Wan replied with a bow. "General Obi-Wan Kenobi of Coruscant. I am a Jedi Knight and representative of the Jedi Council of Twelve, who have given their approval to the union of Padawan Skywalker and Senator Naberrie."

Anakin stared in disbelief. Obi-Wan shot him a dry smile, his blue eyes dancing. Anakin looked back and saw Master Gallia sitting in the back row of the temple. She gave him a warm smile. Padmé squeezed his hand, and Anakin realized with a start that the priestess was facing him with her arms spread wide.

"Uh, I am Anakin Skywalker, son of Shmi," he said, bowing. He paused for a moment, and grinned at Obi-Wan. "And apprentice to Obi-Wan Kenobi. I submit myself for bonding in accordance with Naboo tradition."

The priestess took his and Padmé's hands. The rest of the ceremony seemed almost unreal, and Anakin felt like he was floating, aware of very little beyond Padmé's giddy smile and warm brown eyes as she slipped a plain gold band onto his finger. Her love radiated from her, washing over him like a wave. It hardly seemed possible that such a beautiful creature could belong to him. He barely noticed as Sabé and Obi-Wan bound his hand to Padmé's, stumbling through his vows with the prompting of the priestess. One moment, they were two people, separate and distinct, and the next they were one, husband and wife, forever linked through the solemnity of their vows and the strength of their love.

"Anakin?"

"Huh?" he replied, startled.

The priestess gave him a tolerant smile. "You may kiss your wife, Anakin."

__

My wife.

Anakin bent and brushed his lips over Padmé's, then pulled her into a deeper embrace, their bound hands against the small of her back. The sun, shining bright until now, suddenly disappeared behind a cloud. Anakin drew back from her, staring out the window as a chill passed through him.

(There's a storm coming up, Ani.)

He hugged Padmé to his chest and lay his cheek on her head. The strange feeling persisted. He looked over at Obi-Wan, who wore a strained smile, and knew his master felt the chill as well. 

__

Everything will be all right. I have my angel, now my life is complete. He squeezed Padmé until he heard her gasp for air, but continued to cling to her.

(There's a storm coming up, Ani.)

__

Storm's coming…


End file.
